Black and White
by mistopurr
Summary: When Legolas has his first encounter with Men, he loses everything: his family, his home, his childhood, his innocence. It is taken from him in ways that he has not seen even in dreams.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Of course I do not own the characters that you recognise, because they belong to the ever brilliant Professor. I do, however, own the characters you do not recognise – Laerwen, Seregeth, etc. This story was written for enjoyment purposes only, and no money is being made from it.

**Warnings: **This will be quite different to my last story. It is very emotional and there is a lot of inner turmoil for the characters, but there is also physical pain. There will also be mentions of attempted rape later on in the story, although I will tell you now that I will not be going into much detail, and it will not be insensitive writing.

I hope you enjoy this story!

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The voice was incessant. How long had it been speaking for? It must have been ten minutes at least this time, without pausing for a drink of water, a few long breaths, or even an answer to its own questions. It went on and on and on, never stopping. The golden haired Elf who was victim to this torture, rested his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and counted to ten first of all in silent Sindarin, and then again, but this time in Quenyan. He had hoped that it would help to calm him somewhat – it did not.

'_Valar, help me. Please let me come out of this never-ending, one-way conversation still possessing what small bit of sanity I have left,' _he thought.

And it had not just been today. It had been _every single _day for the past week. To begin with, he had coped well with the endless discussions. After a few days he had tired of the very same words and questions. And now…now all he wanted was to disappear, for that seemed the only way of escape. The conversation had not changed once, the subject of talk always remained the same, and the- The Elf's thoughts were cut off as a hand pulled at his hair.

"Have you been listening to me?"

"Of course."

"That is a lie."

"Why should I want to lie?"

"Because you have not been paying attention."

"I have! You have given me little other choice."

"If you _have _been listening, prove it. Answer my question."

"Very well. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I have been listening."

"Not that question. The other one."

"Ah. What was the question?"

Legolas Greenleaf, the golden Prince of Mirkwood, folded his arms across his chest, and tapped one foot impatiently on the floor. He had, after all, asked this particular question many times with no response, and to make an Elfling who wanted an answer wait, was quite an unthinkable thing to do. So, one could not blame the child. It was only natural for him to be at least a little bit frustrated.

King Thranduil sighed, and rested his head in his hands once more. "Legolas, I listened to every single word that you said, bar the few that made up your question. Please, forgive my lapse in concentration."

"I don't think you even know what I have been talking about," the Prince said, accusation in his childish voice.

"Of course I do. You have been speaking of the men who are due to arrive tomorrow to trade with us," Thranduil replied. "You have spoken of nothing else for the past week. Why should today be any different?"

Legolas gave a very small shrug of his shoulders. "You listened a little bit, then. Can I ask my question again?"

"If you must."

"What do the men look like?"

Thranduil opened his mouth to reply, but then he hesitated, and looked down at the Elfling in surprise. "You have seen men before, I am sure."

"No. The last time they came here, you said that I was allowed to see them. But then you confined me to my room for the whole day because I tricked that important lord who was staying into walking under the door with the bucket of water on top of it," Legolas replied. "And the time before, you said that I could see the men. But then you made me do extra history lessons because I caught a baby spider and let it loose in one of the council rooms. So I haven't seen them."

"I remember." Thranduil suppressed a shudder at the mention of the spider – he hated the creatures, be they large or minute - and instead fixed his attention on the child. "I suppose it is best behaviour from now until tomorrow, then. You do not want to miss them again."

Legolas shook his head violently. "Ada, will you please answer-

"I am very happy for you to meet the men tomorrow," Thranduil cut in. "But there is a condition."

"I know. Good behaviour."

"Two conditions, then," the Elven-king amended. "These men will be arriving in the late hours of tomorrow night, and if it was any other time, you would be fast asleep in bed. As it is, your mother and I are allowing you to stay up until they arrive. But we will only allow this if you rest in the afternoon, to make up for the sleep that you will lose."

Legolas' eyes widened, and he looked horrified. "Ada! But that is unjust! I had to do that when I was little."

"You still are little," Thranduil replied. "But it is your choice."

"Alright," the Prince said moodily. "Now will you answer my question?"

"No."

"Ada!"

The Elven-king hid a smile at the expression on his child's face, and gestured to a table at the side of the room. "Go over there and get that book, Legolas. It is all about the different men of Middle-Earth. It knows more than I do, and will probably be able to give you better answers than I can."

The Elfling picked up the book, and flicked to a random page. He stared hard, trying to decipher the sentences – he couldn't. "Ada, I cannot read this. I don't know what half of these words mean, and the other half, I can't even say."

"It is not just a written book. It is also illustrated," Thranduil replied. "But you will find it easier to read than you think."

"You trust _me_ with one of your books?" Legolas asked doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

The King smiled as the Elfling climbed up onto his lap. "I was going to give it to you anyway. Your fascination in the race of men has not escaped my notice. And besides, I am sure that you are tiring of only having reading material given to you by your tutor to study for your lessons. This will make a change."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Legolas wrapped his arms around his father's neck, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Ada. I will look after it, I promise."

"I do not doubt that," Thranduil replied. "And now that you have something to amuse yourself with, maybe I can get on with my work. Only, a certain Elfling disturbed me, and I was prevented from continuing with it."

Legolas smiled as he slid down to the ground and ran over to the door of the study. "Sorry Ada. Goodbye!"

With that, the child tore from the room and down the corridor. On his journey, he passed servants who smiled at him and slipped him little sweet things to eat; advisors to the King who frowned disapprovingly but then smiled fondly as soon as he looked away; and even a healer or two who warned him that, should he break an ankle, there would be no sympathy from them, only this: "it is your own fault for running so fast."

As he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at them, the sound of two female voices reached his ears from just around the corner. One of them he recognised immediately, the other he was unsure of whose it might be. Not that that mattered much, for he was interested only in the first voice: it belonged to his mother.

"I must return home. My family will be waiting."

"Mine also, no doubt. I will see you tomorrow."

As the conversation between the two Elven-ladies came to an end, and they went their separate ways, Legolas broke into a run, and dashed around the corner so that he could catch up with his mother. He would very much liked to have crept up on and surprised her, but even his soft footsteps were not quiet enough for the Queen's sharp ears. She turned quickly, and caught the Elfling in her arms before he could get much further.

"Nana," Legolas giggled, as she tickled him. "You weren't supposed to hear me."

"I do not think that you could have made more noise unless you had trumpets to announce your arrival," the Queen replied.

The Prince pouted as his mother straightened up once more. "I didn't make _that _much noise. That was an ex….ex…"

"Exaggeration, I think, is the word you seek."

Queen Laerwen pushed a few strands of silver hair back behind her ears, and smiled down at the Elfling. Violet eyes sparkled in a face that was flushed with the exhilaration of seeing her young son, the child who had the power to bring great joy to her, at any time. Subtle freckles were dotted across her rosy cheeks and patterned over her nose, a feature that was not common among the Firstborn. But it only served to enhance the Elven-queen's beauty.

"Who were you talking to?" Legolas asked.

"Líndariel." Laerwen laughed softly at the blank expression on her son's face. "I do not think that you have met her. She is a friend of mine. Perhaps you know her younger brother? Saeldur?"

"He is a few archery classes above me."

The Queen nodded. "I thought so. Now, where might you be off to?"

"I am going to read this book somewhere. Or at least, I'll look at the pictures," Legolas said. "Ada gave it to me. It is about men. But I don't think I'll be able to _properly_ read it for a while. There are some long words in there."

"I may be wrong, but I believe that book was your father's when he himself was only an Elfling," Laerwen said slowly. "Look at the very first page. If I am right, his name should be written there."

Legolas turned the book over, and flipped it open. His mother _had_ been correct: scrawled in the top left corner of the first page was "_Prince Thranduil Oropherion_". As the child gazed at the words, he could not help but laugh softly. He had become so used to seeing his father's elegant and ordered script, that the messy and smudged writing before his eyes was quite a surprise.

"Nana, how old was Ada when he got this?" he asked.

"Your grandfather gave it to him when he was…well, he must have been the same age as you are now," Laerwen replied. "You see, he had never before seen men either, so Oropher, who had grown tired of his constant talk of them, gave him this book to keep him quiet."

"Just like today," Legolas said in surprise.

"Exactly. And I will let you into a secret." Laerwen bent down, and whispered into her son's ear: "Ada was no better than you at reading the words. If anything, he was worse."

Legolas laughed, and nodded towards the page with his father's name written on it. "Nana, don't tell Ada this, but his writing was even worse than mine is now."

"It got better," Laerwen replied. She paused, and smiled at the Elfling. "Go on, you can go and read that book now. I will see you at the evening meal tonight. Please, be on time."

"I will."

"No, I mean it," the Queen said firmly. "You were late last night, and the night before. Promise me that you will be on time."

The Prince looked up, and held his mother's eyes with his own. "I promise, Nana. I won't be late."

"Hmm. I will believe that when I arrive in the dining hall and you are already sat down and ready to eat," Laerwen replied. She reached down, and gently ruffled her son's hair. "Your father thinks that you will be late again. Try and prove him wrong."

Legolas shook his head slightly as the Elf-lady walked past him. His lateness was not his own fault. Last night, he had been kept behind in his lessons because he had struggled to understand a mathematical concept, and the tutor had not let him leave until he had grasped it. And the night before….well, that _was_ his fault. His toy soldiers had been in the middle of a violent war, and at the time when he was supposed to be making his way down to the dining hall, his best warrior had been injured.

He shook himself mentally, and made to carry on down one of the corridors which led towards the Royal Family's private rooms. But then he stopped, and glanced to the side. There was a door in the wall - a door he knew to be a shortcut which led out onto the archery fields. He hadn't been outside for a good few days, and was beginning to miss the trees.

'_I could go into the forest,' _he thought to himself. _'Not far, just to the clearing where Ada and Nana take me sometimes. It's nice there. And I could be back for the evening meal. No-one would ever know."_

His mind made up, Legolas slipped through the side door, and found himself almost immediately on the archery fields. He watched in wide-eyed amazement as warriors fired arrow after arrow into targets far away, practiced battle moves and strategies, and fought each other with long knives. If truth be told, he was envious. He had not even started on blades yet, and probably wouldn't for another few years. Where the bow and arrow was concerned though, he took pride in knowing that he was called the best archer in his class.

'_Ada said he would talk to the weapons master about moving me into a higher age group,' _the child thought happily, as he ran across the grass. _'I hope I am moved up. Then no-one will be able to call me little any more.'_

"Prince Legolas!"

The Elfling froze and looked up. Standing in front of him was Ithilen, a newly joined soldier of the Mirkwood troops. He was being looked at suspiciously, and he tried hard not to look guilty. "Hello," he said.

"Hello. Where are you going, little one?" the Elf asked.

"Oh, I am going into the forest," Legolas replied.

Ithilen arched an eyebrow as he glanced at the trees. "Not on your own, surely? That is not allowed. The forest is far too dangerous."

"I have permission to go in there from my father. He trusts me not to go too far in. I have promised that I won't," Legolas said. He felt awful for lying, but sometimes it had to be done.

"Is that so?" Ithilen asked slowly.

"Yes. You can go and ask Ada if you want to. But you'll just look silly, because he'll tell you what I have," Legolas replied. "I will wait here while you go to him."

Ithilen was silent for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Go on, then. Be careful to keep your promise, though. Do not go too far in."

"Of course." Legolas smiled as he turned and disappeared into the trees.

The soldier watched the Prince leave, doubt gnawing painfully away at him. He had half a mind to follow the child, and make sure that he was kept safe. But what if it transpired that Legolas _had _been telling the truth, and the King was fully aware of where he was and what he was doing? Ithilen exhaled deeply and turned back to the training field. He would not follow the Elfling. But he _would _inform his Commanding Officer of what had just happened.

"Ithilen! Come, it is your turn to fight me!"

"Oh, is that so? Prepare to be severely beaten!" The young soldier laughed as he ran back to his friend and pulled a long knife from his belt. As he fought, the mental note that he had made to speak with his commander was erased. It was gone, and would not be remembered until it was too late…

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**And, there is my first chapter. I think I've done fairly well with my time management with this story! I said at the end of BHSL that I would start posting after summer, and I've done just that! **

**Thank you to Elven Hope for helping me out with choosing a title for this story, and also thank you to Legolas-gurl88 for always being there to listen to me talking about what I'm writing!**

**Does anyone know if the ban on replying to reviews has been lifted yet? If it hasn't, leave me your e-mail address (I may well have it already, mind) and I'll e-mail you with a response!**

**Chapters will be posted every Sunday. I would post more often, but I've recently started Advanced Animal Care at college; I'm learning to drive; and I'm looking for a job – so posting weekly will give me time to write more. **

**That's it, I think. See you next week!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas snapped shut his book, and looked around in horror. It was dark. Very dark, in fact. And it was not just the blackness that always lay in Mirkwood that crept around him. Night had fallen - he could see a few stars in the sky through the heavy branches that towered above him. How long had he been sitting under the trees? Time had flown by; he had not realised how late it was getting.

"Oh no," he whispered, as he jumped to his feet. "The evening meal! I've missed it, and if I haven't, then I won't get back in time. Ada will be so angry."

The child turned and ran through the trees, trying to keep his gaze fixed straight ahead in front of him. He had never seen a spider before. At least, not one of the poisonous creatures who could kill grown Elves if given the chance. He could imagine them hiding on both sides of the path, waiting to pounce on defenceless Elflings. The thought made him feel sick, but he pressed on. The longer he tarried, the more likely the spiders were to come.

Somewhere up in the trees an owl hooted, and Legolas cried out in terror. Branches hung down in front of him, and every one that he hit out of the way fell back to scratch along his shoulders. The wind played with his hair, picking it up and tossing it around. He could feel it on his face, and even though he knew that the golden strands were his own, he could not help but imagine them as silky spiders' webs.

He lifted both hands and tried to push his hair out of his eyes and back off his face, and as he did so, his book fell to the ground. A large part of him wanted to carry on running back to the palace – he didn't want to spend any more time out here than he had to – but he knew that he could not leave it there, especially after the promise he had made to look after it. So he dropped to the forest floor and grabbed the book, pulling it close to his chest.

"Why did I leave?" he whispered. "Valar, this is all my fault."

The child got unsteadily to his feet and looked around, desperately taking in his surroundings. He had come off the main path, he was sure of it. But how could he….? A little way in front of him was a grim looking clearing, with a thin path winding off in each of the four main directions. He bit down on his lip. He was quite sure he did not want to go to the south. But what was it he wanted?

"North," Legolas muttered. "The palace is north. But which way is that?"

He took a few steps forward until he was in the middle of the clearing, the thought ever present in his mind that he should have paid more attention in his lessons. He looked around slowly, weighing up all of the choices presented to him. If he continued forwards, at least he would be following a straight path. Though, who was to say it would lead him back to the palace? If he went to the left – or the right, for that matter – there was simply no guessing where he would end up. And if he went back the way he had already come…maybe he would end up back on the main path? It was worth a try.

He glanced over his shoulder, and stared into the darkness behind him. If he had come from that direction, surely home was that way? It must be. It made perfect sense. And so he nodded decisively to himself, ready to turn and head back that way. But what was that? His heart began to pound painfully. There were eyes, eyes on the path. They were watching him. And moving.

"No," he whispered. "Please, no."

From somewhere up above him, another owl hooted, the trees rustled, and leaves fell to the ground, brushing his shoulders on the way down. And that made up his mind. Drawing in a sharp breath, he jumped into movement. He didn't even know in which direction he was going. All he wanted to do was get as far away from the danger as he could. And so with fear as his only reason for doing it, he ran.

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Queen Laerwen closed her eyes briefly as her husband slammed a decanter of wine onto the table top. "Thranduil…"

"No, do not make more excuses for him," the Elven-king cut in. "You always do it, even for the smallest, most trivial things that he does. I know that you dislike seeing Legolas punished. Do you think that I enjoy doing it? But he is never going to learn otherwise."

"He is only late for a meal," Laerwen said gently.

"For the third time this week. He knows what time we eat, and he also knows that punctuality is taken seriously," Thranduil replied. "If he deems himself too important to dine with us, then he will not be dining at all."

The Queen watched in silence as her husband nodded to a servant to remove their son's untouched meal from the table. She could see why Legolas' lateness angered the King. She herself was irritated by it; though that was not something she would admit to. The first and second time she had been able to let pass. But _three _times was taking it too far, especially after she had reminded him to be on time. All the same, she did not want to see her only child punished. Exhaling deeply, she raised her eyes to meet the King's, though she did not smile at him.

"Please," Thranduil sighed, "do not look at me in that way. That is something else which you _always _do. You try and make me feel guilty And you always succeed."

Laerwen pushed back her chair, and went to stand beside her husband. She reached down, and gently touched his cheek. "That is not so. You must have a guilty conscience. In fact, yes. I believe that you do."

"Believe what you will."

"Meleth…" Laerwen let out a slow breath, and shook her head sadly. "You should not be too hard on him. He is only a child, after all. Is it too much to allow him a little bit of freedom?"

"He does have freedom," Thranduil replied. "He has as much freedom as we can allow him, and he knows that. But he also knows that there are rules he must abide by. And abiding by them should not be hard, yet he finds that it is."

"You were the same at his age," Laerwen said. "Do not think that I cannot remember – I can. There were many times that you sought sanctuary at my home because you had done something to anger your father, and you did not have enough courage to face him. Take that look off your face, Thranduil. You know it is the truth. You also know that if you punish Legolas for something that you yourself cannot deny to having done, you will be guilty of hypocrisy. And you do not want that, I am sure."

"Not enough courage," Thranduil muttered. "Please, I always had courage enough to face my father, I…just…" He trailed off at the expression his wife wore, and shook his head. "Very well, I will go and get Legolas. I cannot ask a servant to do it for the_ third _night in a row."

Laerwen hid a smile as the other Elf stood. "Thank you."

The Elven-king raised his eyes in annoyance as he left the dining hall to go and find their only child. It was not that Legolas was a particularly badly behaved Elfling, he reflected. In fact, he was very charming – most of the time. But he did have a few moments – like this one – when his antics were not wanted or needed, and he made his father want to shake him. Hard.

As he pushed open the door to his son's room, Thranduil wondered what excuses he would hear this time. "Legolas Greenleaf," he began, "if you think that you are still going to see those men, you can…" He trailed off into silence.

The room was empty. It was how it had been that morning: untidy bed, toys strewn all over the floor, a half completed drawing on the oak desk, an ink stain on the carpet that was badly concealed by a small pair of boots and a tunic. But no Elfling. The King blinked a few times, but nothing changed. Legolas was not in front of him. His eyes were not being deceived.

"Legolas?" Thranduil's voice was uncertain; he doubted whether he would get any response. "Legolas, where are you?"

He backed once more into the corridor and looked up and down it, hoping that he would see his child running towards him. But his hopes were dashed. He was alone. And then his heart began to pound hard against his chest, so hard that it physically hurt. Something was wrong, he knew it. He could feel it. But what…that, he could not guess. There was something inside of him, the paternal part of him that told him it was so. He just wished he knew what it was.

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Legolas made his way dejectedly through the forest. He had shed tears already, over two hours ago, but he would not do so again until he was safe at home, in the loving arms of his parents. He was stuck outside on his own, and that was all there was to it. Laerwen had been the one to tell him once that tears would never solve anything. He had not understood at the time, but now it made perfect sense. He smiled at the thought of his mother, but it was quick to disappear.

There were noises from up ahead, people talking. He was quite sure that it was not Elves – the voices were pleasant, he liked them, but they were heavily accented, and not as musical as those of the Firstborn. And yet, they were not harsh enough to be Orcs, not hissing enough to be spiders, nor gruff enough to be Dwarves. That could only mean one thing.

"Men," Legolas whispered.

He crept forwards so that he could peer through the leaves of a bush; and as he caught his first sight of the mortal race, excitement pushed all fear away. They were tall, he noticed, with broader shoulders than the Elves, and in many cases, rounder stomachs. Most of them had dark hair on their chins, which Legolas thought was fascinating. One could not blame him – growing up in an Elven community, a beard was not something he was accustomed to.

'_That really is strange,' _he thought to himself. _'They have hair on their faces.'_

He tore his gaze away so that he could inspect their clothing, and after examining the garments for a minute or so, decided that he preferred Elven clothes. Their cloaks were travel worn, stained with mud, grass, and what looked horribly like blood. They were dressed in dark colours, and their boots, from what he could see, were caked with mud. They were heavy, and made deep imprints in the leaves and grass beneath them.

One of the men raised a gloved hand to push some dark hair off his face, and as he did so, Legolas could not help but cry out at what was revealed. He immediately bit hard on his tongue, hoping desperately that he had not been heard. Unfortunately, the mortals were on their guard, and they spun around to stare hard at the bush he had sought sanctuary in.

The human who had pushed his hair away glanced over to a companion. "Did you hear that, Thal?"

Thalion, the captain of the group, nodded slowly without looking at the other. His sea-coloured eyes flickered with a mixture of doubt and anger as they gazed at the bush. He and his men had so far managed to avoid trouble on their journey through the forest, and it would be just their luck, he reflected grimly, if they were to encounter problems in the last few hours of the trip. He raised a strong hand, indicating that weapons should be made ready.

One of the men shifted restlessly. "What do you think it is?"

"Could be anything," Thalion replied. He took a deep breath, and stared at the trembling bush. "I will have mercy on you, and give you ten seconds to present yourself to me. If, when those ten seconds are up, you are not visibly before me, my men will shoot. Show yourself!"

Nothing much happened. The bush shook a little, as if its inhabitant was torn between staying hidden and obeying the orders which had been given. Thalion watched through narrowed eyes, gradually tightening his grip on his sword until his fingers ached and the skin whitened. He was still counting silently – whatever was concealed in the bush had a mere seven seconds left.

"I will laugh if it is nothing but a mouse," one of the men said softly.

"Keep your jokes to yourself, Curin," Thalion snapped. He looked back at the bush – still no clear movement. "You have five seconds! Four, three, two-

"Don't shoot me!"

The men stared in amazement as the leaves parted, and a golden haired…something jumped through the bush to land directly in front of them. Some cried out in fear. They had heard many stories about Mirkwood from 'reliable sources', and would not be surprised if this small creature revealed itself to be a demon child. Or maybe something even worse.

"Well, it is not a mouse," Curin said, after a long silence.

His brother, Surin, who stood beside him, tilted his head. "No. Nor is it a spider. Although, the resemblance is clearer from this side."

"To what? A spider or a mouse?" Curin asked.

"Spider from the left, mouse from the right."

Legolas' eyes widened, and he stared at the men in disbelief. "Do I _look _like a spider or a mouse?" he demanded. He was ready to throw a childish tantrum at the insults, but he bit down on his lip as his gaze swept across the arrows and swords pointed in his direction. Maybe losing his temper was not the best idea.

Thalion concealed a smile as he laid his weapon on the ground. "Fear not, little one. We will not hurt you."

"Captain, don't speak to it," one of the men hissed. "Don't encourage it."

"It?" Legolas repeated. "It?"

Thalion turned to his companions, and shook his head slightly. "Are you telling me you believe everything that you hear? This is no demon. It is a child. An Elf child, to be exact. Now, put your weapons away. You are frightening him."

"I thought you were going to shoot me," Legolas said slowly.

"You emerged just in time," Thalion replied. He paused, and the smile faded from his face, leaving it grim and hard. "I would like to ask you some questions."

Legolas bit down on his lip, and nodded once. "Alright."

"First of all, I would like to know your name." The captain paused at the child's expression. "I see. Have you been told not to give out such information to those you do not know? That is good advice. Well, I will tell you my name first of all. I am Thalion."

"Hello, Thalion," the Prince said. "I am Legolas."

A murmur swept through the group of men like wildfire, and there was much muttering behind hands. Curin and Surin, the two brothers who had been cracking jokes, looked at their companions for a few seconds, before the realisation of what had just been said hit them. Their eyes widened, and they drew sharp breaths in unison. The captain held up a hand to silence them all, then turned back to the child.

"Legolas is the name of the King's son," he said slowly. "You cannot be Legolas Greenleaf."

"I am."

Thalion shook his head in disbelief. "But what are you doing out in the forest by yourself, little Prince? Surely your father has not let you come out here?" He fell silent at the look on Legolas' face, and gestured to a tree stump at the other side of the clearing. "Go and sit over there. We are stopping here tonight."

"That's not a good idea," Legolas replied. "You do know that there are spiders?"

"Aye, we know." Thalion smiled grimly as he propelled the child towards the tree stump. "But I'll be damned if I let a giant insect stop me from rest. Come now, let us talk. Why are you out here?"

Legolas sighed as he sat down and watched the men preparing meals and starting fires. "I came out here to read this book, but I wasn't going to go very far from the palace. I didn't realise the time. When I looked up, it was dark. I tried to run, but I got lost. I've been trying to find my way home for…for hours. And then I saw you."

"Were you spying on us?"

"No!" Legolas said incredulously. "I have never seen men before, so I watched you. Then that man over there pushed his hair away, and I saw his ear. I've seen ears that aren't pointed before, but only in pictures, so it surprised me. That was what made me cry out."

"So, your father does not know where you are?" Thalion asked.

The Prince shook his head sadly, and blinked back tears. "No, he doesn't. And when he finds out that I'm gone, he will be worried. So will Nana. I wish I hadn't left the palace. I don't like it out here. It's dark, and there are eyes watching me. Not all of the trees speak to me. I wish Ada was here. He would keep me safe."

Thalion smiled, and touched a hand to the child's shoulder. "If you could have him here for one minute, what would he say to you?"

"He would…he would tell me that I am very stupid for running away, and that he is disappointed in me," Legolas said quietly. "But then he would hold me, and he would tell me to be brave, and that he loves me very much."

"Well, you should take comfort in that," Thalion said. "Come, do not be afraid. We will be arriving at the palace tomorrow, so you will be with your parents then."

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by another man coming to stand before them. This one was younger, it seemed – maybe by only a few years – than his companions, with dark skin and black hair that hung down to his leather-clad shoulders. His eyes were a deep brown, but he kept them partially hidden by looking up through long lashes.

"Captain," he said softly.

"What do you want, Amarth?"

"I think it would be courteous to send one of us on to the palace, so that we can inform the King and Queen that their son is safe. If I lost a child, I would want to be told," Amarth replied. "King Thranduil and his wife must be extremely worried."

"Are you volunteering?" Thalion asked.

"If there is no-one else."

"Very well. Take one of the horses, and _please _be careful," the captain said. "Try not to lose any vital body parts; if you meet a spider, do not wait around to make conversation with it – kill it, and if you-

"Wait!"

Legolas looked up, and concealed a smile as the brothers, Curin and Surin, came running towards them. They were very much alike, both with shoulder length, corn coloured hair surrounding tanned faces, and twinkling blue eyes, but he did not think that they were twins. One of them – he was unsure which – winked at him before turning to Thalion and speaking.

"If Amarth is going to the palace anyway, why does he not take the little Prince along with him?"

The captain shook his head immediately. "No. He could encounter danger, so it is safer for the child to stay with us. There is less risk."

"May I say something?" Legolas asked shyly.

"Go ahead."

"I don't want to spend the night in the forest. I would rather be at home with my parents. I don't want to wait until tomorrow," the Prince said. "Please, can I go tonight?"

"That is out of the question," Thalion snapped. "There is safety in numbers, so you will stay here with us."

Legolas' eyes flashed, and he took an angry step forwards. "All I want is to be home with my family. I've never…I've never been away from them before. Please, don't make me stay in the forest."

"I don't know."

"Please…"

The captain was silent for a moment, but then he raised both hands in defeat, and nodded. "Very well. You may go. This is against my better judgement, though."

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Thalion shook his head, and led the child over to where Amarth was already mounted on a slight black horse. "She is one of our faster animals, and will get you back to the palace more swiftly than any of the others."

"Thank you," Legolas repeated, as the man lifted him and placed him in front of Amarth. "Hopefully I won't be in too much trouble when I get back, and Ada will still let me see you."

"Until tomorrow, captain," Amarth said. He inclined his head briefly, before kicking the horse into action. It sprang forwards, jumped over the bush that had been the hiding place of Legolas, and was gone, into the trees.

Surin sighed, and shook his head sadly. "Something troubles Amarth. He has spoken very little since we left the village. That is rare for him."

"Poor child. I do not think that he will enjoy the company," Curin added.

Thalion sat down before the fire, and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. "It will take only a few hours to get to the palace with that horse, I estimate. I am surprised that the Prince managed to get so far all on his own. But no matter. It could be worse."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alondir, the fair haired commanding officer of Mirkwood's army, and advisor and close friend to the King, listened in grave silence as Thranduil explained that Legolas was nowhere to be found. He wondered that perhaps the Elfling – who was more than a little mischievous – might not just be taking a game of hide-and-seek too far. But of course, he did not mention this.

"I have looked for him everywhere," Thranduil finished. "I cannot find him."

"When you say 'everywhere', do you mean every single room in the palace?" Alondir asked.

The Elven-king shook his head, and waved a hand dismissively. "Of course not. I would not expect him to go anywhere other than our private rooms at this time. He prefers to stay there when it gets darker."

"Then you must not jump to conclusions. He is only an Elfling, after all. It would not surprise me if we went to the kitchens and found him asleep under a table," Alondir said. "I understand your concern, but I cannot send out patrols at this time. I am sorry. Until we have searched the palace – the _whole _palace – thoroughly, can I do anything."

"And if he is in the forest?" Thranduil snapped.

Alondir sighed, and shook his head. "I do not think that is likely. You placed him under house arrest for a whole week the last time he so much as stepped into the trees on his own. He disliked that very much, I remember."

"Maybe he thought that no-one would find out this time," the blonde Elf said slowly.

"Maybe. But I doubt that." Alondir paused, and touched a hand to his friend's shoulder. "Come, there are rooms uncountable in this palace, and you have looked into only a fraction of them. Is Queen Laerwen aware of this situation?"

"Not yet."

"Might I suggest that you tell her? Then we will search for your Elfling," the commander said. "If we find nothing after searching the palace, a patrol will be sent out."

Thranduil wanted very much to argue against this, but he told himself to remain silent – though he did so with great difficulty. He knew the laws of his country better than anyone else. The correct procedure when an Elf was reported missing, was to search first of all in and around the palace, and then if that proved fruitless, it would be extended into the forest.

"You are right," he replied slowly. "I cannot change anything for Legolas, although my heart wills me to do so."

Alondir gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but inside, he was more than worried, and was cursing the protocol that demanded how their searches were carried out. It was not like Legolas to wander off without telling anyone where he would be, and although he would often be late to them, it was certainly unlike him to actually _miss_ a meal. The commander sighed, and sent a silent prayer to the Valar, asking them to keep his Prince safe.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The temptation to post a few days ago was so huge, because I really enjoy posting, but I thought it would be more practical for me to keep to my original word, and post every Sunday. **

**Anyway, I have decided that instead of e-mailing replies to people who have reviewed, I will post them instead on my bio page, because that makes it easier if there is anyone whose e-mail address I don't have. So if you want to see my reply to your review, it'll be on my bio page. **

**Anyway, I'll see you next Sunday for the next update!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	3. Chapter 3

The darkness was overwhelming. It pressed in on him from all sides, choking him. It swirled in front of him like mist, a mist that he was drowning in. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his vision. Why could he not see? Had something happened to blind him? The fear lasted for only a few seconds though, as Legolas realised with a jolt that his eyes had been shut.

Feeling rather foolish, but still wondering, the child opened his eyes, and gazed around. He was still riding on the horse, and could feel the warmth of Amarth's body behind him, but that made no sense. Surely he should be back at the palace by now? Had he actually been asleep? Where were they? It was dark, but despite that, he could see that the trees were becoming thinner, and that he was still in an unrecognisable part of the forest.

"Ah, you are awake."

Legolas looked up over his shoulder uneasily. "Where are we?"

"Still in Mirkwood," Amarth replied. "Why? You do not wish to be elsewhere, do you?"

"No, but…" The Prince tangled his hands in the horse's mane as she broke into a canter. "I thought you were taking me home."

"I am."

"But the palace is not this way!" Legolas cried. "It can't be. We should be there by now."

"You misunderstand me," Amarth said softly. "I am taking you to your new home."

Legolas' eyes widened, and he snapped his head around. "My…my new home? What do you mean?"

Amarth forced himself to stare straight ahead, too ashamed to look into the young face. "I am sorry," he murmured. "I wish that there was another way, but there isn't."

"Stop the horse," Legolas said desperately. "Stop!"

"No. We will not stop until we are out of this forest," Amarth replied.

"Please, stop! I don't understand!" The Elfling stared up at the man, searching his face for answers that he had not been given. "What do you mean by 'another way'? Another way to what? Please, don't-

Without any warning, Amarth raised a balled fist, and slammed it against the side of Legolas' head. His brown eyes flooded with regret as the child fell limply against him, but he forced himself to ignore the action he had taken. All that he wanted to do was get this job over with as quickly as possible, so that he would finally be able to carry on with his life.

The same could not be said for Legolas.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in Mirkwood, tensions and tempers were running high. The council rooms had been searched, the kitchens had been searched, the throne room, the gardens, the healing rooms, even the prison had been searched, and still there was no sign of the missing Prince. The King had left the palace and gone into the forest with two patrols, in the hope that there would be some sign of his Elfling, anything that could help him.

"Was he wearing a cloak when last you saw him?" Alondir pressed.

"No. He was dressed as he usually is, but was without his bow and arrows, though of course he could have picked them up," Thranduil sighed. "He had a book, which he said he was going to take away and read. I assumed that he would be in his rooms. Obviously I assumed wrong."

Alondir let out a slow breath as the patrols began to spread out. "Maybe. Legolas could have first of all gone to his rooms to read this book, and then who knows? There was a space of…how many hours between him leaving your study and the evening meal?"

"Four. No, five. I….damn it, I don't know!" Thranduil snapped.

The commanding officer's face remained impassive, but when he spoke, his voice was stern. "That will not help your son. It will not help any of us."

"I know, and I am sorry. Forgive me." The Elven-king looked away, and exhaled deeply. "There were maybe four hours between him leaving my study and the evening meal. But I cannot be sure."

"Alright," Alondir said softly. "And there is nothing to forgive."

Thranduil smiled weakly at his friend, before glancing to the side of the path. "We have not yet heard anything from the trees. If something was amiss, would they not speak of it?"

"Ask them," Alondir replied. "I will return soon. I must find out from Celorfyn which way he is sending his patrol."

Thranduil nodded absentmindedly, and turned to face an old oak tree. He placed both hands onto the trunk, hoping_, praying_ that something would come of his efforts. "My friend, I am in need of your help."

"Ah, it is the young King from the palace," the oak replied. "It is a dark night."

"It is. In more ways than one," Thranduil sighed. "My son has gone missing. I fear that he is in the forest."

"You would be correct."

Had he been able to, the Elven-king would have grabbed the tree and shook it. But he forced himself to remain calm as he said: "Could you tell me where he is?"

"He passed this way. A very pleasant child he was, singing a song."

"When? Where is he now?"

"A few hours back. I do not know of his whereabouts, but there is a chestnut a way on whom you might find informative."

"Thank you for your help." The Elf removed his hands and turned away from the tree, wondering vaguely how many oaks, ashes and beeches he would converse with before the night was over.

"Did you gather any useful information?"

Thranduil looked up at the commanding officer, and shook his head. "Very little. Legolas passed this way a few hours back. He was a very pleasant child, singing a song. I am not sure how that helps us."

"No, it does help," Alondir said thoughtfully. "He must have felt confident that he was safe. So that means _we_ can be confident that he was not running from anything. He was in no danger at this point."

"But we are close to the palace. Very close," Thranduil replied. "Of course he would be safe at this distance. The spiders would be taking a chance indeed if they ventured this near to us."

The commander shook his head slowly. "Maybe, but-

"King Thranduil! Captain Alondir!"

The two looked up to where the calls had come from; and upon seeing a group of soldiers beckoning them urgently, both broke into a run and sprinted over. They were directed through a cluster of thick trees and into a clearing, where another small gathering of Elves were huddled around a beech, all of them wearing expressions which could not be read.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked sharply.

"Your Highness, I spoke with this tree, and she told me that Prince Legolas rested here for a couple of hours," one of the soldiers explained. "He was reading a book."

The Elven-king closed his eyes briefly. "Go on."

"When he had finished looking at the book, it was dark. He panicked. The tree tried to comfort him, but he was too distressed to even notice, and he ran," the soldier continued quietly. "That was all she could tell me."

"Thank you." Thranduil turned to Alondir, and smiled grimly. "One mystery is solved, then. He came out _here _to read. But I do not understand why. He knows that he is forbidden to enter the forest alone."

Alondir nodded slowly. "But we are not far from the palace, as you said. He probably assumed that if he only came a reasonable amount of the way in, he would be in no danger. So I think it is safe for _us _to assume that he is still fairly close by. I do not think he would run too far, for fear of losing himself in the trees."

"These are just assumptions," Thranduil said. "We cannot be certain of anything."

The commanding officer inclined his head. "Maybe not, but that statement works both ways. Come. I will send a few soldiers further than this clearing and its surrounding area, but most of the search should be carried out around here. We cannot overlook anything."

"Are you saying that our search will not be extended until this area has been fully covered?" Thranduil hissed. "What if we are wasting our time here?"

"And what if we are wasting our time by moving further away?" Alondir challenged. "No, I am sorry. This area is where we look tonight."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas' eyes fluttered open, and he slowly raised a hand to the side of his head. It hurt terribly, though he had no recollection of anything that could possibly have caused the pain. Wincing, he looked around, and drew in a sharp breath as he realised that he was no longer in the forest. Instead, he was lying at the side of a dusty road, the grass below his body serving as cushioning.

"Oh no," he whispered, sitting up quickly.

"You had me worried for a while."

The Elfling snapped his head around and stared at Amarth, who was leaning against a pile of large rocks a little way away. "Where am I?" he demanded. "And why have you brought me here?"

"I have some advice for you: keep your temper to yourself in your new home," the man said. "It will not be welcome there."

"I still don't understand," Legolas said softly. "Why am I going to a new home? Why was I asleep for so long? And how did we get here so quickly? It should have taken us hours, even a day or so to get out of Mirkwood."

"It did. I rendered you unconscious, and you were in darkness for quite a while. When you began to stir again, I gave you a sleeping draught," Amarth replied. "It was the same one that I gave you as soon as we left Thalion, though you were not aware of it when last you woke. You were asleep for many hours, little one. I thought that I had given you too much, and you would not wake at all."

The dark haired man smiled to himself, though Legolas did not find the idea even remotely amusing. Biting down on his lip, he looked around again, trying to find a landmark which would help to identify his location. A river flowed to his left side, and on the right was the road. Where flora and fauna were concerned, there was nothing. But geography had never been the child's strong point. He knew that even if there_ was_ more to help him, it would not.

"I have your book if you want it," Amarth said.

Legolas' eyes flashed furiously, and he jumped to his feet. "Why did you take it?"

"Calm yourself. You would have dropped it from the horse whilst asleep if I had not," Amarth replied. He reached into his pack and took it out. "Here you are."

"Thank you," Legolas snapped, as he snatched it back.

"Ungrateful little brat," the man muttered.

The Prince made a noise of anger in his throat, but did not rise to the bait. He was better than that. Instead, he held his head higher, and gazed at the mortal. "You might at least tell me why you have taken me from my home."

Amarth sighed deeply, though he could not refuse the request. An explanation was the least he could do. "I am…I am in love with a girl," he said softly. "We made plans to marry, but her father got in the way. He will not let her go."

"That is unfair," Legolas murmured.

"Yes. Anyway, he has a…interest, I think is the word, in children. He keeps them for himself whilst they are young, and then when they are old enough or brave enough to fight him, he sells them," Amarth said quietly. "When last I saw him, he told me that I could not marry his daughter unless I did a job for him."

Legolas bit down on his lip, and his heart sped. "What was the job?"

"To find him an Elven child. He has never before had an Elf - he usually deals in mortal children," Amarth replied. "He said that if I could get an Elf for him, he would allow me to wed his daughter."

"Why does he want an Elfling?" Legolas whispered.

The man looked down, and smiled. "Elfling? I did not know that you were called that. It is a pleasant name." He paused, and drew a deep breath. "My love's father wants an Elven child because…. I do not know. Maybe he has tired of mortals."

"But what does he….what does he do?" Legolas breathed. "Why does he keep children?"

"I am not sure how to answer your first question. He is a cruel man, you should know that much. But if you manage to keep him happy, your life will not be _too_ miserable," Amarth said slowly. "The normal procedure, so far as I know, is this: he will set you chores and jobs. This is only so that the suspicions of the people from the nearby town are not aroused. Young servants are no strange occurrence. After maybe a week or so, the chores will stop. And he will….well, you will find out."

"Tell me," Legolas said desperately. "Please!"

"No. I am not entirely sure myself," Amarth replied. "What was your other question?"

"Why?"

The man was silent for a moment as he thought, and he shook his head slowly. "Power. He has had power all of his life, control over his family and friends, but one day that control was taken from him. But that….that is not for me to tell you."

"It makes no sense," Legolas said.

"He had to regain the power that he lost," Amarth explained. "And so he turned to children. They cannot fight him, and if they do, they cannot defeat him. And he takes pleasure out of that."

"How did he lose his power?" the Elfling pressed. "What happened?"

Amarth shook his head violently. "Be quiet, I am telling you no more. You have enough information to go on."

Legolas turned away, and lowered his eyes to the ground. "And I am going to live with this man," he murmured, clutching the book close to his chest.

"Had you not been in the forest, it would not be you. It would be some other child. But you were there, so I took the opportunity," the man replied. He paused, and picked up his pack. "Come, we will leave now. I wish to get there by tomorrow."

Legolas looked down at the book he held, and shook his head. "Ada…" he whispered. "What if I never see you again? And Nana…"

As the realisation of what that really meant hit him with the force of an arrow, the Elfling spun around and began to run. He did not get far, though. Amarth took four long strides and grabbed the back of his tunic, pulling him away from the road. Legolas tried to fight, to escape, but his efforts were wasted against the strong man.

"Your situation is more dangerous than you know, and trying to escape will only make it worse," Amarth hissed. He pulled a water skin from his pocket, and pulled the child around to face him.

"No, don't do this!" Legolas cried. "Don't take me to him! Please!"

The mortal pushed his captive to the ground, and knelt beside him. "Drink this," he ordered, holding out the skin.

When the only reaction he got was a violent shake of the head, Amarth reached down and forced the child's mouth open, spilling the sleeping draught into it. Again, he poured too much, but this time, he found that he did not care. He knew that if pleaded with for long enough, he would turn back to Mirkwood, forsaking his love. With Legolas unconscious, that would not happen. He would continue on to his destination.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was very little in the whole of Middle-Earth that could be named as a weakness of the Elven-king of Mirkwood. Many would claim that he cared only for wealth, for jewels and for wine, and nothing else could compare. Although, those who made such claims would not be able to say – without speaking words of untruth – that they knew him.

For what he _really _cared for, more so than _anything _else, was his family. As a child, he had become firm friends with Laerwen, who happened to be the daughter of Oropher's chief councillor. And as each year passed, the two grew closer and closer, until, in their years of adolescence, Thranduil realised that he loved her with all of his heart. But he had kept silent, fearing that should he reveal his feelings, their friendship would end.

Little did he know that Laerwen felt for him what he did for her. And so the two kept identical secrets for many months, until the time came for Oropher to lead his son and warriors into battle, to the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. On the eve before they were due to leave, Thranduil revealed his love for Laerwen, as she did for him. They promised that when he returned from war, they would marry. It was that which saved him when he saw his father cut down and his friends slain, that which fuelled his spirit when fighting. For he knew that should he fall, never would he see his beloved again.

Soon after his return from war, the two married. They made no plans for more additions to their lives though, for they were young, and wanted to make up for the time that they had already lost. To see them apart was a rare thing - even when Thranduil had meetings to attend, she would accompany him and sit lovingly at his side, much to the chagrin of her father, who thought it most inappropriate. But neither of them heeded him.

And then a few centuries down the line, Laerwen revealed that she was with child. The whole of Mirkwood – for it was around the time of the end of Greenwood the Great – rejoiced that night, although it was in the comfort of their private chambers that the royal couple celebrated, entwined in each other's arms as they made plans for their future, and their unborn child.

A year on, they had a son. He was their golden child, the ray of sunlight in their lives as the Shadow grew in the forest. When reports came in of large Orc hosts gathering to attack, it was Legolas who gave them hope, Legolas who made their hearts glow with love and pride. But that aside, there was worry also; a worry that they did not speak of, but were all too aware of. As each day passed, the danger in Mirkwood only grew, Sauron's minions only increased in numbers and strength, and the King and Queen feared both for the safety and the innocence of their Elfling. They had once believed that their protection had been enough, but as they waited for any news on the third day of his disappearance, doubt was beginning to emerge.

"We failed him," Laerwen whispered, shaking her head sadly. "We failed our son."

"No. There was only so much we could do to protect him," Thranduil replied. "Do not give up hope. It was not even a week ago that he went missing. The patrols are still searching, and will not stop until he is back here with us. Laerwen, they will find him. Only a short amount of time has passed."

The Queen nodded, and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "I know, but I cannot bear to think of him out there. He must be so afraid. Why did he enter the forest, Thranduil? Why? We have told him countless times that he is not to venture in alone, so… I just do not understand. He knew of the dangers."

"I can give you no answers, because I do not know how to. Though I wish I did, for those questions also prey on my mind." Thranduil paused, and sat beside his wife on the chaise. Gently turning her face towards him, he said softly: "Legolas will return to us. I know that he will."

"Can you be sure of that?" Laerwen asked quietly.

"Yes. The Valar are not cruel enough to take away our child," Thranduil replied. "They gave him to us, but they would not take him back. Believe that he will return, meleth-nin. Please, do not give up hope."

Laerwen leaned forwards and rested her head against the Elven-king's shoulder, blinking back the tears which had pooled in her eyes. She would pray every night for the safe return of their son; she would pray every night that wherever he was, he was not afraid. But she knew that would not be so. Pictures flew into her mind of the child huddled up against the base of a tree, sobbing for his parents, crying for someone, anyone, to come and rescue him. She swallowed, and closed her eyes tightly, willing the images to disappear.

There was a knock on the door, and Thranduil exhaled deeply as he pulled away from his wife to go and answer it. Part of him was afraid. What if it was a bearer of bad news? That was a possibility which, although he wanted very much to, he knew he could not push away. It was with a heavy heart that he pulled open the door and nodded for the report to be given.

"My Lord, the men you were to trade with have arrived," the guard said apologetically. "They have already been informed that now is not a good time, but their captain wishes to see you. He claims that what he has to say cannot wait, my Lord."

"Very well," Thranduil sighed. "Bring him here."

"Yes, my Lord."

As the door closed, Laerwen jumped up and caught her husband's arm. "Must you see this man? Legolas is missing. It is him we must focus our attention on, nothing else."

"I cannot send them away after they have journeyed all the way here," Thranduil said gently. "That is not courteous."

"Courtesy?" Laerwen said incredulously. "Our son is Valar knows where, and all you can think about is being polite to these men, and securing future deals! You should not even be here! You should be out in the forest searching for Legolas."

Thranduil sighed as his wife turned away in anger. "I have spent the last two nights out there, helping the patrols look for him. You know that. I would have spent all of today and all of tonight searching also, but Alondir sent me back here so that you would not be alone. Trading with the men is the last thing on my mind at this moment. All I want to do is get this over and done with so that they can leave again."

"I know," Laerwen said quietly. "I did not mean to-

The door flew open, cutting her off mid-sentence. A man swiftly entered the room and looked from one Elf to the other. "King Thranduil, Queen Laerwen?"

"That is us," Thranduil replied, glancing over to the door where two guards stood, eyeing the mortal distastefully. "Thank you," he said. "You may leave now."

"My name is Thalion, and I am captain of the group of men whom you were supposed to meet with, as I am sure you have already been told. We had planned to arrive here yesterday, but we encountered spiders. One of my comrades was injured, and that is why we are late. But that is of no importance now," the man explained quickly. "Half an hour back, we were met by one of your patrols in the forest, and they told us in brief that you cannot locate your son. Did he not arrive here the night before last?"

Thranduil snapped his eyes up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Your son is Legolas Greenleaf, am I correct? A little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes?" Thalion asked. "He was in the forest two nights back. My men and I came across him. Or rather, he came across us."

"What have you done to him?" the King snarled, leaping forwards and grabbing the front of the man's shirt. "I swear by the Valar, if you have harmed a single hair on his head, I will-

"My Lord, I have not yet finished the story," Thalion cut in swiftly. "One of my men volunteered to ride here so that you and your wife could be informed of Legolas' safety. But it was then decided that if he was coming here anyway, he may as well bring the child also. Are you telling me that neither of them have arrived?"

"Forgive me, I jumped to conclusions," Thranduil muttered. He stepped back, and shook his head. "No. They have not arrived. Did they leave you on foot or on horseback? How far from the palace were you? And who was this man?"

"Have a seat, Thalion," Laerwen said quietly. "You must be weary."

"Many thanks, my Lady," the mortal replied. He sat down, and exhaled deeply. "I gave them a horse to ride, for it would take them a long while to get here on foot. Your son managed to get very far away – when we discovered him, we were roughly five hours from these halls. And to answer your final question, the man is named Amarth. He is not a friend of mine, but that is only because he…well, that does not matter."

"That is where you are wrong. This man has my son, so it matters very much," Thranduil said sharply. "Why do you dislike him?"

Thalion sighed, and shook his head. "It is not that I dislike him. He is an honourable man. But he wishes to marry my sister. I think it is natural for a brother to suspect his sibling's betrothed."

"Laerwen's brothers despised me when they discovered I wished to marry her," Thranduil replied, nodding towards his wife. "I think that one of them still does. But back to this Amarth…do you trust him? Did you believe he would bring Legolas straight back here?"

"Without a doubt. If I thought for a moment that he would put your son in danger, I would not even have considered letting the two within speaking distance of each other," Thalion replied firmly. "I do not wish to cause either of you more fear, but it is my strong belief that only one thing would prevent Amarth from returning Legolas to you: death."

Laerwen drew in a sharp breath, and raised a hand to her mouth. "No…."

"I am sorry," Thalion said softly.

Thranduil turned away, and stared unseeingly at the wall. "Do you have children?"

"My Lord?"

"You heard."

Thalion sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I have not been blessed with them."

"Maybe this is something which differs from race to race, family to family, though that is a notion which I find hard to believe. When you become a parent, a link is formed between you and your child. It is unique, and felt always: in sleep, in sickness, in times of trouble. Only in death is it broken," Thranduil said heatedly. "The link that I have with Legolas is still strong, so I will _not _believe that I have lost him. Not yet. He still lives. Only when I begin to feel that our connection is breaking will I start to doubt his return."

"Then, what are you saying?" Thalion's voice was quiet, but the edge to it did not go un-noticed.

"Do you think that this Amarth came across a threat, maybe Orcs or spiders? Do you think that he tried to fight them, but did not emerge victorious?" Thranduil asked. "Because I most certainly do not."

"It is probable," the man replied. "He would have tried to protect your son, I know that much. But please, tell me what you are saying. Do you think that Amarth has taken Legolas? He has no motive."

"You might want to reconsider that until we can be certain of what happened," Thranduil said. "Now, I can find my son with or without your help. If you do not wish to be of service to us, then you and your men can leave. If you _do_, however, think that you can help in any way, then you are welcome here."

The man stood, and nodded once. "I will give you whatever help I can, for however long you need me. But I must send my men away. They have families to think of. I do not."

"We appreciate this," Laerwen said softly. "Thank you."

Thalion inclined his head at the Queen, before turning to Thranduil. "You mentioned that there is a link between a parent and a child. It is a nice thought. But you also said that you do not believe it is something which differs from race to race, family to family. _You _might want to reconsider _that_. Not all children are as lucky as Legolas. Not all children are blessed with parents akin to you and your wife."

The Elven-king's face remained impassive, but his eyes flashed silver. "I know. I am not blind to the misfortunes of others."

"Of course not. Well, I must go now and explain this situation to my men," Thalion said. "They will not be happy, but they will understand."

"Rooms will be provided for you," Laerwen said. "You are welcome to dine with us if you wish."

"Many thanks, my Lady," Thalion replied, bowing to her. "I take my leave."

As the man left, and the door closed, Thranduil turned, and sat down once more. "Well…"

"What happened to courtesy?" Laerwen asked. "You do not like him, do you? But try and be civil. We need his help."

"I know what we need," the King replied. "And besides, it is not that I dislike him. I am merely in no mood to make new friends today."

Laerwen nodded, and exhaled deeply. "Will he help us?"

"I hope so," Thranduil sighed. "I really hope so."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Sorry this is a few day's late! I've just got a new job and I've been working every hour of my spare time, and what with college as well, it means that I have little time left to myself, and when I do, I'm so tired and all I want to do is relax in the bath or sleep! So I hope you can forgive the delay!**

**Anyway, see you next Sunday!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	4. Chapter 4

'_I gave him too much of the sleeping draught again,' _Amarth thought, glancing down at Legolas, who still wandered the path of dreams. _'But it made the journey easier for the both of us. I am only thankful that we have arrived, and I can soon be rid of him.'_

He looked down at the Elfling again, and touched a hand to his shoulder. "Child, wake up," he hissed, shaking him. "Come, you must wake."

The Prince moaned, and turned his head to the side. His eyes fluttered briefly, but did not open. "Where…where am I…?"

"You will find out," Amarth replied. "Your journey ends here. Sit up, and take a look around. Here, let me help."

"No…" Legolas forced his eyes open, though he was swift to shut them again, as he was greeted by the blinding glare of the sun. "You gave me that…that sleeping draught."

"I had to."

"My father once said that if you don't know how to use something, then you shouldn't use it at all," Legolas murmured. "And in my lessons, I've been taught about medicines. Sleeping draughts shouldn't be used this much. You could harm the one you give them to. And Elflings especially shouldn't be given so much. You have to be careful."

"Be quiet," Amarth sighed. "Do you want to see your new home or not?"

Legolas pushed himself into a sitting position and blinked carefully until his eyes were open. He was immediately greeted by trees, and although hope flickered at that, it was quick to die down once more. They were different to the trees in Mirkwood – greener, younger, and not so thick. He let out a deep breath, and looked around. He was not in a forest, that much was clear. It was more a copse than anything else.

"You thought that you were still in your own home," Amarth said quietly.

"The trees made me think so," Legolas murmured. "But they are very different."

Just in front of the rows of trees, there flowed a stream. Its water was clear, and the song it sang as it danced over the shiny rocks was a soothing one. The child felt that, had the situation been a different one, he could have spent all day listening to the melody. He wondered vaguely where the stream began, for as he looked into it, he could see fish darting here and there, mere flashes of black and gold.

"I like fish," he said softly. "They are fast, and very graceful."

"The master of the house likes fish," Amarth remarked absently. "He likes to eat them. He has to catch them first. And then he has to cut them open. I expect you will be doing a bit of that."

Legolas shuddered, and raised his eyes to the cottage that stood at the far side of the…field, one would call it, for that was what it was: a long stretch of grass surrounded by trees. The outside walls of the house were made of a dark brown wood, and the roof was thatched, a concept that the child might find fascinating at any other time. There was a single window at the front of the building, though try as he might, Legolas could not see through it.

In front of the door there was a large block of wood, with an axe embedded in the middle of it. Evidently someone had been in the middle of hard work but had either grown tired of it, or just plain fed up. Next to the cottage was another building – stone this time – which was separated into two halves. The left side was home to a horse – Legolas could see the dim outline of it – though he was unsure of what inhabited the right hand compartment.

"That's where you will be living," Amarth commented, nodding towards the cottage. "If you behave."

"No. No, I'm not going there," the child whispered. "I won't. I will find my own way home, back to my parents. And if I don't, they will come for me. They will find me."

The mortal laughed softly at that. "Do not build hope for yourself."

"I am _not_ going to stay here!" Legolas' words were brave, but he was unable to keep his voice from shaking. Grabbing his book – which he had not yet lost – he backed away slightly. "I'm not staying, I'm not. I'm going home."

"Believe that the hope you are giving yourself is false," Amarth said. "You will only be disappointed."

Legolas shook his head, taking another step backwards. "Don't do this. Don't leave me here. Please, take me home to Mirkwood. My father will give you anything you want: money, horses, jewels…"

"There is only one thing that I want," Amarth replied. "That is to marry my love."

"You _can_ marry her. Take me to Mirkwood, and my father will let you and her stay there, away from this man. Please!" Legolas' eyes filled with tears of desperation, and he was powerless to stop them from escaping. "Please, I'm scared."

"You have good reason to be."

The little Prince stared in horror for a moment, before turning and running as fast as he could through the copse. His heart pounded furiously, _painfully _against his chest. He had been given a head start, but was fully aware that the man was just behind him. And so he threw himself against one of the trees, where he knew he would be safer. But these were hard to climb; he was not used to their slippery bark and thin branches. In his panic, he could not even hold on properly.

"You are going nowhere, squirrel," Amarth growled. He jumped up and grabbed the Elfling's ankle, pulling him back to the ground.

"Let go of me!" Legolas screamed.

The man grabbed the book from the child's flailing hands, and held it high in the air. "This is important to you, I believe. If you cause more trouble for me, I will destroy it. Your choice."

"Please…"

"Do you want me to destroy it?"

"No."

"Are you going to calm down?"

The child nodded mutely, and tears fell with the action. All of this was happening so fast, he could hardly believe it. He kept hoping that he would wake up and realise that it had been nothing more than a horrible dream. And then he could run to his parents and find comfort in Thranduil's strong arms, and Laerwen's tender ones. But deep down, he knew that would not happen. He did not even know if he would _ever_ see them again.

"Good. Take the book and stop crying," Amarth ordered, reaching down and pulling Legolas to his feet.

And then without another word, he grabbed the child's hand and dragged him through the trees and across a shallower part of the stream. Legolas went without a fuss, holding the book close to his chest, eyes fixed unseeingly on the ground beneath him. But silent tears still fell; tears of anger, hurt, fear. He knew that this would not be the last time they fell.

Amarth raised his free arm, and knocked sharply on the door. "Listen to me, young one. Your temper will land you in a lot of trouble if you cannot keep it under control. My advice to you is this: never argue with him, be quick to do as he says, and-

The door swung open. Legolas tried to keep his eyes lowered, but the temptation to see who owned the pair of feet underneath his gaze was too much. So he raised them slowly, half afraid of what he would see, and half curious. He had been told many stories from many people – his parents, his tutor, Alondir, different soldiers of Mirkwood's armies, – and had built in his head an image of what the man would look like: long greasy hair, sallow skin, a scarred face. All the bad characters in the stories looked like that. But what he saw could not have been more different.

The man before him looked not a day over thirty summers, though Legolas was quick to tell himself that it could not be so if his daughter was old enough to marry. His skin was a dark brown, coloured by long amounts of time spent under the sun. Black hair was kept off his face, tied by a thin strip of leather, and his eyes…the child found himself unable to look away. They were blue, which was strange enough in such a dark man, but their hue was bluer than the sky, the sea. They were penetrating, mesmerising, yet at the same time, horribly cold.

"You have arrived."

The man spoke slowly, his voice like dark velvet. It was soft, bordering on tranquil, though the underlying malice that dripped from it did not go unnoticed by Legolas. He shivered, and had to bite down hard on his lip to try and calm the shaking of his body. He hoped desperately that the two mortals – especially the stranger – would not pick up on his fear.

"Yes, I have arrived, Seregeth," Amarth replied. "And I have brought a child with me."

"So I see." The man knelt before Legolas and touched a hand to his cheek, before moving it up to brush some strands of hair away, revealing a delicately pointed ear. "You kept your part of the bargain, then? I was beginning to doubt your courage."

"Yes, I kept my part of the bargain," Amarth said coldly. "But will you keep yours?"

Seregeth stood once more, though his eyes did not leave Legolas. "You picked him up from Mirkwood? Where did you find him?"

"We had stopped to rest when we came across him. From what he has told me, he is the son of a commoner," Amarth said, his voice level.

Legolas' eyes flickered, and he was automatically about to correct the statement. But he bit down on his lip, deciding it was best that this Seregeth did not know that he was of royal blood. He felt grateful to Amarth for lying on his behalf. But only a_ little_ grateful. After all, this whole mess was because of him.

"Does he have a name?" Seregeth asked.

"I presume so. You will have to find that out yourself."

"And what of my son? You were with him, am I correct? Did he suspect anything?"

"Would I be here if he did?" Amarth paused, and his face hardened. "Your part of the bargain must be kept."

"My daughter? Keep her." Seregeth's voice was cold. "You are a fool. You could have had her without coming to me, and deep down, you know that. She means nothing to me. But never mind. I hope you are happy with her. I doubt you will be, though. She caused me nothing but grief. I pity you.

Amarth let go of Legolas' hand, and pushed him forwards. "Take the child."

Without saying another word, he turned on his heel and walked across the field. He stepped over the stream, and jumped on the horse. He did not spare the two he left behind a backward glance as he rode through the trees. Legolas watched him go, his last hope. He could've persuaded Amarth to take him home, he was sure of it. But now…now he was alone.

"Come with me," Seregeth said, putting a hand on the Elfling's shoulder and propelling him into the cottage. "I will show you around."

Legolas found himself standing in the middle of a room that could be described neither as large nor small. The furnishings were few: a table in the centre with four wooden chairs around it, and all manner of things piled on top of it – books, plates and bowls, bottles of wine, clothes – the child noted with distaste that some of the dishes still contained half eaten meals. At the back of the room was a mattress, with cushions and pillows piled up against the wall so that one would not get sore after sitting there for a long time.

Next to the mattress was a wooden storage unit, which was used to contain both food and cutlery, though at the moment, the latter's home was on the tabletop. In the middle of the wall on the right was a fireplace, though there was no wood in the grate. Clearly it had not been used for a long while. On either side above it were two shelves. One held ornaments and candle holders, figurines, letter openers, and the other was home to a few books.

"I didn't imagine it would be like this," Legolas murmured.

"I suppose you imagined a horrible stone building in the middle of a noisy and dusty town, with screaming children and shouting and cursing men." Seregeth smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. "No, I prefer it here. I think you will too."

'_I would prefer to go home,' _Legolas answered silently.

The man turned, and pointed to two doors on the far side of the room. "The one on the left is where I sleep. You do not go in there. The one on the right is where you will sleep. I will show you it later. For now though, why don't we have a talk?"

Legolas bit down on his lip, and shrugged helplessly. "Alright."

"Good. Go and sit on that mattress," Seregeth said. "Would you like some water? Or maybe some fruit cordial?"

"No."

"Very well." The man pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down, his eyes not leaving the Elfling. "Tell me your name, little one."

He received nothing but silence. Legolas pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, the book still clutched tightly in one of his hands. He kept his eyes averted. He had to; he knew that should he look into Seregeth's blue pools, he would be captured by them, unable to look away. He bit down even harder on his lip, and shook his head.

"You must have a name," Seregeth said. "If not, I can choose one for you."

"Legolas."

The man smiled. He had been doing this long enough to know which games to play, and when. For a child who had been taken away from his home, his family and his friends, having his own name taken away was one of the most degrading things that could happen. It would happen eventually, granted, but it was best to let him live for a while with the belief that he still possessed at least one thing of his own.

"I see that you have brought very little with you," Seregeth continued. "But why a book?"

"I promised to look after it," Legolas whispered.

"Do you like to read, then?" the man asked.

The child shrugged helplessly. "My father would read to me. There are some words, the long ones, that I struggle with. I don't know what they mean."

"Hmm." Seregeth paused, and glanced outside. "Do you like animals? I have a horse. I rarely ride her, though. And some dogs. They are friendly enough - if I tell them to be. Would you like to see them?"

"I don't mind," Legolas said in a low voice.

Seregeth clenched his fists under the table. He was a short tempered man, but a rule of his was to leave it at _least_ a day before letting his bad side show. It gave the children hope that maybe things would not be so awful, and that he was quite pleasant after all. He enjoyed dashing their hopes, and watching the disappointment fill their faces. He had always taken pleasure in the misery of others, and when it was misery caused by himself, that made it all the more enjoyable.

"I will show you the animals on a different day, then," he said, looking back at the Elfling. "Would you maybe like something to eat?"

"I don't mind."

"Maybe later, then." Seregeth paused, casting around for something else. "Ah, did you see the stream outside? It flows all the way down from the top of the field, and a little further up, it is deep and wide. Would you like to go and see that?"

"I don't mind."

"Fine. Would you like to go and see the fish?"

"I don't mind."

Seregeth's eyes flashed. It was lucky that the child had been looking away, for had he seen the fury in them, he would have trembled. "I think it best that you go into your room and get some sleep. I can imagine that the journey from Mirkwood was tiring."

Legolas stood, and without another word, walked across the room and disappeared through the door on the right hand side. The man watched him leave, a friendly smile plastered on his face should the Elfling turn. But he did not. As soon as the door was closed and he was alone, the smile disappeared, and the blue eyes blazed cruelly.

"I will enjoy breaking you, little one."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later that evening, Seregeth pushed open the door to the room which had been given to Legolas, and leaned against the wall. He watched silently, the expression on his dark face impassive, but his eyes glinting like sun on ice. The Elfling either had not noticed his presence or was simply choosing to ignore it. But whichever it was, his face was buried in the thin pillow which lay at the top of his mattress, and his small shoulders shook with sobs that could not be suppressed.

"I know why you cry," Seregeth said quietly. "And I understand."

"Do you?" Legolas' voice was muffled, and he did not raise his head. "Do you really?"

The man pushed himself away from the wall, and nodded. "Of course. It is only natural that you should shed tears. You have been taken from the only home that you have ever known, and thrust suddenly into a new one. You miss your family, I imagine, and your friends. I do not blame you for crying."

"I do miss them," Legolas whispered. "And I did not even have a chance to say goodbye."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

The Elfling looked up, and shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "This is your house. You can do whatever you please in your own house."

"That is true. But," the man said, as he stepped forwards and sat on the mattress, "I am not the only one living here, am I? You live here also."

"It doesn't feel that way," Legolas murmured. "I feel like a stranger. And I have never felt like that before. It is wrong to feel like a stranger in your own home, so I don't see how this can possibly be mine."

"Are you lonely?"

The child sat up, and hugged his knees close to his chest. "Yes, but that won't change anything. Will it?"

"Perhaps not. But you need not suffer," Seregeth answered. He paused, and reached out to rest a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "If you wish to talk to me, I will listen. It may well help you feel better."

"I…thank you."

Seregeth nodded, and his gaze fell on a book that lay abandoned on the floor. "You brought that with you, yes? I can remember when I was a boy, I used to enjoy being read to when I went to bed."

"So do I," Legolas whispered.

"Good, we have something in common," Seregeth smiled. "If you want me to read to you, I would be happy to. Would you like that?"

"I…don't know, I…alright."

The man nodded, and bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the sigh that he wanted to release. He hated this – the friendliness, the pleasantness. It was dull. There was no fun to it. But he knew he had to go through with it every time he received a new child – the pain would come after, and that was what he enjoyed. It was worth waiting for. So with that thought in mind, he leaned forwards and picked the book up off the floor.

"Very well, I-

"No!" Legolas suddenly launched himself forwards, and snatched the book from Seregeth's hands. Fresh tears blurred his vision, and some escaped to stream down his cheeks. "No, please. It isn't meant to be this way. It isn't meant to be you."

"What do you mean?"

"It should be Ada, not you," the Prince whispered. "He would always tell me stories, he would read to me before I went to bed, and…"

Finally overcome with the grief that had been building since leaving Mirkwood, Legolas pulled the book that his father had given him close to his chest, and huddled over it. Sobs wracked his small body, tears stung and blinded his eyes; and the temptation, the want, the _need_ to scream for his parents was so overwhelming that it hurt. He did not even notice as Seregeth wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, and pulled him closer.

"Cry as much as you want to," the man murmured. "It will make you feel better, trust me."

"No, being with my mother and father would do that," Legolas breathed.

"But they are not here. They do not know where to come to find you," Seregeth answered softly. "It might sound harsh, but you must resign yourself to the fact that they are now in your past. They are part of your old life. And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you to move on with this new life."

Legolas raised his head slightly, and stared at the mortal. "Why?"

"Why what, little one?"

"Why are you being like this? You are being nice to me, you are trying to comfort me, and I don't understand that. When he was bringing me here, Amarth told me…" Legolas sniffed, and brushed away some tears with the back of his hand. "He told me horrible things about you. He made you sound cruel."

"And, do you think that I _am_ cruel?" Seregeth asked.

"For keeping me here, yes. But I don't think that you are cruel in other ways," Legolas answered slowly. "If you were, you wouldn't be sat with me now. Would you?"

The man smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. "Of course not."

"Then, why did Amarth say that-

"Do you believe all that you are told?" Seregeth cut in softly.

"Sometimes. Why should I not? But I…I'm sorry," Legolas muttered. He bit his lip, and looked down at the floor. "I should have waited until I met you before convincing myself that you were as Amarth described. You're not, not really. You are nicer than I thought you would be. But that doesn't mean I like you – you took me from my parents."

"Of course I understand that. Now, then." Seregeth turned the child's face up, and wiped away a few last tears. "No more crying, alright? I will leave you now, and I think that you should follow my advice when I tell you to get some sleep. It will do you good."

The man rose and went over to the door. He turned back, and watched as Legolas lay down once more on the mattress which served as a bed. A smile appeared on his face, and his heart sped slightly at the prospect that tomorrow, maybe, would be the time to start enforcing his much beloved power over the child, that tomorrow would be the first day during which his games and torture would start to chip away like a hammer on rock at his captive's innocent soul. He would not sleep that night. He was too excited.

"Goodnight, Seregeth," Legolas muttered.

The mortal's smiled deepened, and he nodded slowly as he stepped through the door. "Yes. Goodnight, my child," he whispered. "Sweet dreams…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**You nearly didn't get this chapter! I've been working all day and some of the evening, and I've hurt my back and it hurts even more when I'm sat at the computer and typing. But then I thought it wouldn't be fair if there was another delay. So here is this chapter!**

**Reviews are much appreciated, and I'm still debating with myself about whether to e-mail replies or just write them on my bio page, as I have been doing for the last few chapters. What do you all think? **

**Anyway, see you all next Sunday!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	5. Chapter 5

It was the sun shining through the window that woke Legolas the next morning. He sat up with a start, ready to jump out of bed and go running to Thranduil and Laerwen, so that he could tell them all about the awful dream he had had. But one look around the plain little room he was in, told him that whatever else his predicament may be, a dream it most certainly was not.

Instead of the large bed with the warm covers and squashy pillows that he had become so accustomed to at the palace, it was a plain white mattress that he had spent the night on, with a thin pillow for his head, and a single sheet to cover his body. The latter had done nothing the previous night to offer warmth or comfort to him, and he had spent many hours shaking with fear until eventually, sleep had taken him into its black depths.

On the other side of the room was another mattress, also complete with one sheet and a single pillow. Though, it appeared to be un-slept in. And that was it. There was nothing else in the whole room. His book lay on the floor next to him – for there was no table or desk – and if he had brought extra clothes, they also would have to be content with the hard floor, as the room was devoid of any storage.

"Good morning, little one."

Legolas snapped his head up in surprise. He had not noticed the silent opening of the door. "Oh," he said quietly. "Hello."

"If you are hungry, there is breakfast on the table," Seregeth said. "It is not much – just a few pieces of fruit and some bread. But the fruit is lovely to taste, even if I do say so myself. Come."

"I'm not very hungry," Legolas lied, as he rose from the mattress.

The man arched a cynical eyebrow at that. "No? Well, at least come and have a look. You may well change your mind. And besides, I would speak with you for a few minutes before the day starts."

"What about?" Legolas followed Seregeth out into the main room of the house, and stood uncertainly by the table. He could smell the bread and fruit right next to him, but he paid little attention to the empty feeling in his stomach. He was too unhappy to eat.

"I noticed that you only have one set of clothes with you," the man said.

"I had no time to pack," Legolas answered quietly.

"Of course not. But I have some clothes that you can wear. They might be a bit too big for you – you are quite small. But they should be fine for the time being. And besides, they do not differ greatly from what you wear now," Seregeth replied. "I also have a few tunics that you can wear during the night."

Legolas looked up, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you have clothes small enough for me? Surely they are not your own."

"No. They belonged to other children who have come and gone," the man said with a smile. "If you are unhappy with them, I can buy you your own. The town is but ten minutes from here. You would have to wait a few days, though."

"I am sure what you already have will be fine," Legolas said. "It doesn't matter."

Seregeth nodded, and gestured towards a bowl of fruit that sat on the edge of the untidy table. "Help yourself, little one. The red apples are particularly juicy. I am confident you will like them."

"Really, I am not hungry," Legolas insisted. He paused, and then added: "But thank you."

"Very well, it is your choice whether you eat or not. However, because you have chosen _not_ to, I must ask for your help," Seregeth said. He sat at the table, and took an apple for himself. "There is a small job that I need doing, and I…Legolas?"

The Elfling had taken a few frightened steps backwards. "Amarth said that this would happen – you would make me do chores for a few days so that the people in the town wouldn't suspect," he breathed. "And then the work would stop, and…I wasn't told anything else. But he was right, wasn't he? Amarth was telling the truth about you, he-

"Legolas, listen to me," Seregeth interjected softly. "Forget what Amarth said, because now that you are here, you can find out for yourself if what he told you was truth or lies. What I cannot understand is why the mention of doing a small job evokes such fear into you."

"Because of Amarth…" The child bit down on his lower lip, and shrugged. "I just…I don't know."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but surely whilst living in Mirkwood you had to do chores for your family to help them," Seregeth said. "Washing? Cooking?"

"I didn't," Legolas muttered.

The man sighed, and shook his head as though in disappointment. "Ah, I was hoping this would be an obstacle that we would not have to worry about. But I see now that you were spoilt. That has to change. I do not like spoilt children."

"I wasn't," Legolas said truthfully. "My parents didn't spoil me at all."

"If you deem yourself to important to do a single chore, to lend your aid, then evidently they did." Seregeth's voice had lost the pleasant tone from before, and was suddenly cold. "Well, I _am_ disappointed. I thought-

"No, I didn't say that I wouldn't do a chore for you, I just said that I didn't do them at…home, and I…" Legolas faltered as his eyes met icy blue ones, and he struggled to hold the gaze. "I'm sorry, Seregeth. I will help you, I…I didn't mean that…"

"Good." The man smiled, and as he pushed back his chair and continued speaking, his voice went back to how it had been before – friendly, pleasant. "Very well, come with me and I will show you what I want you to do."

Seregeth walked out of the cottage, and Legolas hesitated for a moment before following. His heart pounded slightly harder against his chest; he drew a few deep breaths to try and calm it slightly. The mortal's hard and intense gaze of only a minute before had frightened him. The sharp voice had stabbed at him like pins. The sudden change had shocked him. What had happened to the pleasant man of the night before? He had disappeared so quickly…and yet reappeared a second after, as though he had been briefly possessed. Legolas shivered, and hurried to catch up.

"Seregeth, wait!" he called. "I'm sorry, but I'm really not spoilt, and to prove that I will do any chore that you ask of me. And then perhaps…if I do everything that you want me to…would you let me…go home?"

"This is your home," Seregeth answered. "Now, come. You remember I mentioned yesterday that I have a horse?"

Legolas sighed inwardly at his refused request, but nodded all the same. "I remember."

"Well, I do not ride her often," the mortal said, gesturing towards the stone outhouse. "But despite that, I like to see that her coat shines and her mane and tail are free from knots, for she is a beautiful creature. However, I have been neglecting her lately. Your first job for me will be to groom her."

"Why don't you ride her?" Legolas asked quietly.

Seregeth shrugged his shoulders. "She can be quite wild at times. Wait here, and I will bring her out."

Legolas folded his arms over his chest, and looked into the trees across the stream. It would be easy to run – but not to escape. His mind drifted to a story that he had once been told of a boy who had been held prisoner in the home of his cruel mother. He had spent his life as a captive, doing exactly as he was told, serving her without fail. But every day he watched her. He memorised her routine; he made subtle notes of what she did, when she did it, and how. He planned his escape around the routine that he came to know so well, and was finally able to free himself from his mother's clutches.

'_I can do that,' _Legolas thought. _'I can do exactly what that boy did, and then I can escape and find my way home.'_

"Well, here she is."

The Prince turned, and drew in a sharp breath as he laid eyes upon a horse – dappled grey - that was as beautiful as any in Mirkwood. He was quite sure it was an Elvish animal. "I thought you said you had been neglecting her. She doesn't look very neglected."

Seregeth smiled, and ran his fingers through the horse's silky mane. "I suppose not. Well, that will make your job a lot easier, won't it?"

Legolas watched as the rope attached to the animal's halter was tied around a thin tree just next to the stable. "Does she have a name?"

"No, I have never thought of one for her," Seregeth said. That, of course, was a lie. Every child he had had over the years had given her a name. He looked at the child, and smiled. "Would you like to choose one for her?"

"Really?"

"Of course."

Legolas looked at the horse, and a smile appeared on his previously sad face. "I think she should be called Aduial. It's Elvish. It means 'twilight'. That's a nice name. I like it."

"So do I," Seregeth agreed. "Very well, why don't you make a start on grooming her? There is a brush on the ground just next to that stump of wood over there."

"Alright. It will be a very easy job, though. She is beautiful already, and I don't think that I can make her coat shine any more than it already does," Legolas replied.

"Maybe not," Seregeth said. He smiled briefly, before turning and going back into the cottage.

The Elfling stared at the closed door, wondering at the chore he had been given. It made no sense to him. Amarth had painted a picture of Seregeth, a cruel and tyrannical one. But now that he was here, Legolas could not help but doubt the accuracy of that picture. His captor clearly had a temper, and it was one that he would not like to become a victim to. But that aside, he seemed…nice. What if Amarth had gotten it wrong?

'_Maybe I won't have to try and escape,' _Legolas thought, as he began absentmindedly running the brush up and down Aduial's front right leg – he wasn't tall, and that was the highest he could reach. _'I know Seregeth said that this is my home now, but what if I can change his mind? He might take me to my real home – back to Ada and Nana.'_

The horse whickered softly, and pushed his hand away with her long nose. The child laughed, and began brushing once more. But again, his attempts were refused. He looked up into the large brown eyes, and shrugged helplessly. How was he supposed to know what she wanted of him? Aduial tossed her head and flicked her ears, though if this was supposed to help alleviate his confusion, it didn't.

"What do you want?" Legolas asked.

Aduial blew through her nostrils, and with a swish of her tail, sauntered over to the stump of wood, and nodded impatiently at it, as if to demand: "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Oh, I see," Legolas laughed as he jumped up onto it. He found that it elevated him to the height of Aduial's withers, which she was obviously waiting for him to pay attention to. "Clever horse. I wouldn't have thought of that."

The Prince exhaled deeply as he continued with his work. _'I wonder what Ada and Nana are doing,' _he thought. _' I can't imagine. They must be very worried about me. Or what if they haven't even noticed that I've gone? No, they would have. Ada would get angry because I wasn't at the evening meal, so he would've gone to find me, but I wouldn't be anywhere. Yes, they must know.'_

As he groomed the horse, Legolas' thoughts drifted further and further away to Mirkwood, until eventually, they were so far away that he did not even have to close his eyes to see himself sat on his mother's lap as she sang to him, or cuddled up with his father in the evening as he was told stories. In fact, he was so caught up in his own imagination that when Aduial nudged him sharply in the chest, the sudden jerk back to reality was almost painful.

"Sorry," he murmured, dropping the brush and jumping down from the block of wood. "I have to find something out."

That said, the little Prince ran across the grass and splashed through the stream, unaware of the cold eyes watching from the cottage. He stopped in front of one of the trees that populated the small copse, and looked at it carefully. He wondered if he would be able to converse with it, and maybe send a message through the trees all the way back to his father. He hoped so. Although, he had not yet heard these trees singing any songs, or even speaking amongst each other. But, he reflected, as he rested his hands against the trunk, the only thing he could do was try.

"Legolas!"

The Elfling winced, and turned back to the cottage. "Yes, Seregeth?"

"Would you come back over here?" The dark haired man folded his arms over his chest, and watched through narrowed eyes as the child jumped over the stream and came to a halt in front of him.

"Yes?" Legolas asked quietly.

"I think you should understand that now you are living here, you must forget all that you learnt in Mirkwood. Any rules that your parents laid down for you must be pushed from your mind, because I also have rules that have to be taken into account, and they are what matter now," Seregeth said. "First of all, if I tell you to do a job, I expect you to carry on with it until I say otherwise. Secondly, you are _never_ to cross to the other side of the stream unless you have my permission. Thirdly, you do not argue with me. Let me see…that is three rules, and to the best of my knowledge, you have already broken two. Now, I do not-

"I didn't break the first rule! You have given me a job which has already been done," Legolas said. "I can't do anything more to the horse."

Seregeth shook his head disapprovingly. "The number rises. You have broken all three of my rules. Now, I will let it pass today, because you clearly are not used to discipline. But you need to know this: if you break my rules, you will be punished. If you do not, and your behaviour pleases me, you will be rewarded."

"I'm sorry," Legolas muttered. "I went to the trees to see if I could speak to them. But why can't I cross the stream?"

"Rule number four: my word is not to be questioned. But I will give you an answer this time," Seregeth replied. "You stay on this side of the stream so that you are further away from the road – which is through the trees – and also so that I can keep you in sight. I cannot have you running away."

"Oh." Legolas nodded slowly. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"Yes, I suppose I am partly to blame on this occasion." Seregeth paused, and nodded towards the stable. "Come with me. Now, I said that good behaviour is rewarded. I keep my word. Look over the door on the right."

Legolas felt like rolling his eyes, but he stopped himself. "I'm not tall enough."

"Forgive me." The man reached down and lifted the child up. He could feel the instant tension in the small body, and hid a smile. "Look over the door. Tell me what you see."

"There are dogs," the Prince replied. "There are two dogs, and one of them is…well, is actually quite…fat."

"She is expecting puppies," Seregeth said softly. "I believe they will be with us in the next few days. Have you ever had a dog?"

"No." Legolas smiled at what his parents would say to such a notion. "There were dogs in Mirkwood, but I did not have one of my own. I don't think Ada and Nana would like an animal such as that in the…" He caught himself just in time. "House."

"Well, if your behaviour pleases me, when they are born you may choose one for yourself," Seregeth said, as he lowered the child to the ground once more.

Legolas looked up, surprised. "Oh. That's…that's nice of you. Thank you."

The man hid a smile as he nodded towards Aduial. "You had better get on with grooming the horse, had you not? I do not think that you have yet finished, and until I say otherwise, you must carry on."

"Alright." Legolas turned, and picked up the brush once more. As he jumped back onto the block of wood, his eyes flashed in annoyance, and he had to bite hard on his tongue to keep quiet.

Seregeth sauntered over to the door of the cottage, and watched in silence. For over fifteen years, he had kept children of all backgrounds, but Legolas was different. All of the others had been mortals, and most had come straight from a life that was already filled with hardship. But the Elfling…it was clear that he had been raised with love and care, and had been very much protected from the dangers of Middle-Earth. There was innocence to him which the other children had not had, an innocence which would soon be stolen from him in ways that he had not even seen in his dreams. The man would enjoy that.

"Oh!"

Seregeth looked up in time to see the Elfling quickly pushing Aduial's mane out of the way. "What is it, Legolas?"

The Prince shook his head slowly, staring in disbelief at the red welts visible beneath the horse's grey coat. "She has been hurt very badly. What happened?"

"She tried to escape," Seregeth said carelessly. "I brought her out of the stable; she chewed through her rope, and was off through the trees. That is another rule: escape is a seriously punishable offence."

"You…you did this?" Legolas breathed. "How could you? Do you think that she understands what you tell her? You can't make rules for a horse, Seregeth."

"You are coming close to making me angry," the mortal said coldly. "No arguing and no contradicting me. You would do well to remember that."

"I did not forget," Legolas retorted. All ideas that had been in his mind about the other's niceness were slowly leaving him.

"Good." Seregeth smiled and turned to leave, but then he paused. "At least you now know what happens to those who try and escape. One: the consequences are painful. Two: they never succeed.

With that, the man turned and went back into the cottage, smiling as he heard the Elfling draw in a sharp breath. Legolas stared at the closed door for a moment, before turning back to Aduial. He buried his face in her grey mane, unable to stop the tears from spilling. No escape… The horse turned her head and nudged him gently, but it did nothing to comfort him. No escape…

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thalion sat on the edge of the bed in the sleeping chamber that he had been given, and absentmindedly ran his fingers along the edge of his knife blade. He had little information which the Elves would find useful, such as locations and motives, answers to questions which they all wanted, but he was the only one who knew anything of Amarth, and that counted for something. Captain Alondir had asked him if he would go out with him into the forest to help search for the missing Prince, and of course he had agreed.

But as he waited for the time that they would be leaving the palace, he found his mind being pulled into the past. Memories that were best left undisturbed returned to haunt him, and no matter how tightly he closed his eyes, they would not disappear. It was strange, how they came and went at unpredictable intervals, especially after all his years spent away from such a life. Surely they should be easy to erase?

No. The life he had previously lived would never be forgotten, no matter how much time passed. And as he closed his eyes, he could once more hear the cold voice murmuring in his ear; could see the deadly eyes that had bored into his very soul and made him want to scream; could feel the hand that had grabbed at his hair, the chains and whips that had assaulted his body, the-

There was a knock on the door. He started, and his finger jerked across the blade, the skin immediately breaking. Cursing, he threw the knife onto the bed and jumped to his feet, wrapping the sleeve of his shirt tightly around his finger to stop the blood flow. Shaking his head angrily, he stormed to the other side of the room and pulled the door open. Standing before him was an Elven soldier who wore a poorly disguised expression of worry on his fair face.

"Is it time to leave?"

"Maybe…maybe in ten minutes," the Elf replied. His voice shook, and he twisted his hands together nervously. "May I speak with you?"

"Come in." Thalion paused as he pulled the door open wider. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. I mean it…its Ithilen."

"Sorry. Yes, come in, Ithilen," the man said. "What can I do for you?"

"It is Prince Legolas. When I heard of his disappearance, I immediately knew that something was wrong, although for the life of me I could not think what it was. But this morning, I remembered." Ithilen bit down on his lip and shook his head. "I saw him. Valar, how could I? How could I have let it slip my mind?"

"What do you speak of?" Thalion asked softly.

The Elf drew in a deep breath, and let it out again. "I caught the Prince about to go into the trees. I stopped him, but he told me that King Thranduil had given him permission. Foolishly, I believed him. I meant to inform Captain Alondir of our conversation, but it…it slipped my mind. I thought nothing more of it."

"Does anyone else know of this?" Thalion demanded.

"No. I do not know why I came to _you_, but…" Ithilen shook his head helplessly. "I think that I was the last one to see Prince Legolas before he entered the forest. I do not know what to do."

Thalion touched a hand to the young Elf's shoulder. "The King must know…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So, you are telling me that you let my son leave the safety of the training grounds, even though you knew full well that he would be entering the forest?" Thranduil's voice was level, but the flashing of his eyes gave away his fury.

"Your Highness, Prince Legolas told me that you had given him permission," Ithilen replied desperately. "He said that you-

"And you believed him? Even _had_ I done such a thing, do you think I would let him go in there without the protection of an adult?" the Elven-king cut in sharply. "What kind of a fool do you take me for? A lesser one than yourself, I hope. Legolas is a _child_. He cannot defend himself. It is the protection of his elders on which he relies, and you just let him go?"

"My Lord, I meant to tell someone as soon as he had left, but it was pushed from my mind," Ithilen said. "I-

"It was pushed from your mind?" Thranduil exploded. "My only child is Valar knows where, and all you can say is that it was pushed from your mind! If you had done as your heart first told you, we would not be here now."

"If I could say something…"

Thranduil turned cold eyes upon Thalion, and snapped: "Go on!"

"I say this with the greatest respect, but it seems to me that you are trying to blame Ithilen for all of this. Yes, what he did – or did _not_ do – was wrong, but he is not entirely at fault," the man said. "When Legolas went into the forest, he was fully aware of his actions. He knew that he was breaking rules, but that did not stop him. No-one forced him to leave the safety of the training grounds. He did it of his own free will."

"That may be so, but it is not enough to excuse what has happened," Thranduil replied. He paused, and looked back at the soldier. "Withholding information such as this is an offence, whether you have done it intentionally or not. I could have you stripped of your rank; I could have you put in prison; I could even order you out of Mirkwood, if I deemed that to be the right path to take."

"I know this, my Lord," Ithilen said softly. "I respect whatever decision you make."

The Elven-king exhaled deeply, and shook his head. "No. I will take no action on this occasion. My son's disappearance is a more pressing matter."

"My Lord…?"

"You understand?"

"I understand perfectly," Ithilen replied, ending the sentence with a barely concealed sigh of relief.

The Sinda nodded briefly. "You are going out with today's patrol, is that correct? They will not wait for you. Go now, or you will miss them."

Ithilen bowed low, before turning and going to the door. But then he paused, and looked back again. "Your Highness, I am truly sorry. If I had known what was going to happen, I…"

"I know," Thranduil said softly.

As the soldier left, Thalion turned to the King. "I also must leave, for Alondir has asked me to join with the patrol to search for your son. I cannot guess what the chances are of you and your wife being re-united with the child on this day, but I _do_ know that I will try my hardest to find him. It is early days yet. There is still hope."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Night had long ago fallen, and as a bowl of soup was placed before him, Legolas did not appear to notice. He made a soft, non-committal noise of thanks, but his gaze remained on the few stars that he could see through the window. Their presence above him offered comfort. Not a lot, but enough. They gave him hope, hope that he was being watched over, and kept safe.

"Eat that," Seregeth said, as he took a seat on the other side of the table. "It is chicken. I am sure that you will find it satisfactory."

Legolas exhaled deeply as he pushed the bowl away. "No, thank you. I am not hungry."

"Please yourself." The man drank slowly from a cup of wine, though his eyes did not once leave the child. "So tell me," he continued, "how did you find your first day working for me? Was it as awful as you thought it would be?"

"I don't know," Legolas replied. "I didn't enjoy myself, if that's what you mean."

"Did you not? Pity," Seregeth said. "It could have been a lot worse. You should take comfort in that."

The Elfling made a slight noise of derision at that. What a ridiculous thing to say! He did not think that there was anything - bar the soft twinkling of the stars through the grimed window - which could possibly comfort him at that moment. The presence of his mother and father would do just that, but he was wise enough - despite his youth - to know that there was no point dwelling on what would not be.

"Your parents – whoever they may be – did not do very well teaching you manners," Seregeth commented, as he broke off a hunk of bread from a loaf. "It is impolite to remain silent when spoken to."

"I only reply to people that I like," Legolas said softly.

"Then, you dislike me?"

"You went down in my estimation when I saw what you did to Aduial," the child replied.

"Is that so? Well, I can understand that," Seregeth shrugged. "Now, tell me about yourself, why don't you? This is already your second day here, yet I know very little about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about your family," the man answered. "Who were your parents? Did you have siblings?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"You ask many questions."

"So do you."

The man stood up and leaned across the cluttered table. His instinct was to grab the golden hair and pull hard, but instead he caught the child's face in his hands, forcing him to look up. "You speak defiantly and impertinently, and I dislike that. Maybe you do not know it yet, but I will warn you that to get on my bad side is a mistake. Remember that, because I can make your life miserable. You do not want that."

"No, I don't," Legolas said softly.

"I thought not." Seregeth moved his hands away, and sat down once more. "Now, tell me what I want to know."

The Prince nodded slowly, his mind whirling. "My father is a warrior, and my mother sings songs at the palace," he replied in a low voice. It was not far from the truth. Thranduil's formidable fighting skills were renowned, and Laerwen's voice was often heard in the halls.

"That is interesting," Seregeth said. "What names do they go by?"

"My father is called…Alondir, and my mother…" Legolas bit down on his lip and thought desperately, searching for the name of another Elven woman. But then he shook his head. He didn't have to do this. "I don't want to tell you about my parents," he said coldly. "They're my family, not yours. The right to ask me questions about them is not yours – you lost it when you had me brought here."

Seregeth regarded the Elfling in silence for a moment, and exhaled deeply. "They really didn't do very well with you, did they? They failed you. They failed in their duty as parents."

"Don't say that!" Legolas snapped. "It's not true!"

"You have a fiery spirit," Seregeth commented. "Maybe it served you well in Mirkwood, but it will not do so here."

The Prince narrowed his eyes in anger. "I don't want to be here and I don't want to be with you, so I don't care what happens. I don't even know you properly, but knowing what you have said and done is enough to make me think that I hate you already. And I have never hated anyone before. I was not brought up that way. But you took me away from my mother and father; and I hate you for that, for taking me from my home, and for…for everything."

"Are you quite finished?" Seregeth asked coolly.

"No. I'm not going to stay here any longer. I thought that I could wait to be saved, but I no longer think that," Legolas answered, as he jumped from his seat and ran to the door.

"Oh, are you leaving?" The man's voice remained cold, but it was tinted with a dark amusement that the child tried to, but could not, ignore.

Legolas tugged on the handle, but nothing happened. The portal to the outside world remained firmly shut. Again, he tried to pull it open, but it refused to move. It was locked. And as that realisation hit, the Prince slammed a hand against the wooden panel, again and again and again. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he did not bother to wipe them away. He only continued with his violent assault.

"Hysterics will get you nowhere," Seregeth said.

"I don't care!" Legolas shouted, sinking to his knees. "I don't care. All I want to do is get out of here! Away from you! Why won't you let me go? I've done nothing to you, so why are you…? I don't understand."

Seregeth stood, and went to the child. He knelt beside him, and held out a cup of water. "Drink this. It will calm you, and maybe-

"I don't want to drink it!" Legolas spat, raising a hand and hitting the cup. It flew from the man's grip to land on the floor some feet away.

"Do you really think that was a clever thing to do?" Seregeth murmured, as he watched clear liquid spill everywhere. He shook his head almost sadly. "You do not know when to stop, do you?"

The Elfling hid his face in his hands, and shook his head. "Go away…"

"Unless you had forgotten, this is my house," the mortal said.

"That is not what you said to me last night," Legolas muttered.

"No, it isn't. But things can change," Seregeth replied. He paused and took the child's wrists, pulling the small hands away. "Now, you are going to clear that mess up without argument, and then you and I will have a little talk."

"I just want to go home."

Seregeth pulled a cloth from the table, and threw it at his captive's feet. "You have five minutes. Start now."

Legolas made a noise of distress, but defeated, made no further protests as he crawled across the floor to do as he had been told. He dropped the cloth on top of the small pool of water and slowly pulled it back and forth, soaking up the cool liquid. But he was unable to see what he was doing, for his vision was blurred by tears that he was not even going to try and blink back – he knew that they would be replaced by fresh ones that would burn twice as much.

"Do you want to tell me why you did that?" Seregeth asked. "Did you think that anything would be gained?"

Legolas shook his head just once. "I don't know. That is the truth."

"Do not think that I will stand for such acts of behaviour," Seregeth said softly. "If you have any more anger to vent, you should do it now, for my temper will not hold much longer. Do not say that you have had no warning."

The Prince stared at the wet cloth in his hand for a moment, before dropping it to the ground and jumping to his feet. Without even glancing at Seregeth, he walked into the room that he had been given, and slammed the door shut behind him. The crash echoed all around the small cottage, bouncing off the walls and echoing like a roll of thunder does in a valley.

"If this is the way you wish to play, so be it." Seregeth also rose, and crossed the room silently. Leaning against the wall, he pressed his ear close to the door, and smiled as he heard the sound of suppressed sobs coming from inside.

He waited a few seconds before softly pushing open the door, and stepping into the room. He could tell by the way Legolas' body tensed, that his presence was known, but the child, who lay on his 'bed' facing the opposite wall, did not turn, nor utter a single word. Instead, he buried his face further into the pillow, and moved his arms to fold them defiantly or defensively – Seregeth was unsure which – across his chest.

"As you rejected the offer of both food and water, you will be going without them until I say otherwise." The man paused, waiting for a reaction. None came. "You have no-one to blame but yourself."

"So starve me," Legolas said in a low voice. "I don't care."

"But it is not just lack of food," Seregeth said softly. "One cannot survive for very long without water – Elf or no. What will happen if I decide that you are not to have any water for a week?"

"I would more than likely die," the child replied simply. "At least, I'd come close to it. But you won't do that. You won't kill me. I've only been here for two days."

"You should not presume to know everything," Seregeth said, his voice cold.

Legolas pushed himself into a sitting position, and stared into the steely blue eyes. He held the gaze unflinchingly. "I may not like you, but I'm not scared by you."

Without any warning, the mortal's hand shot out, and he tangled it in his prisoner's golden hair. Pulling him from the mattress, he threw him across the room. As Legolas hit the wall, he stumbled slightly, though he was saved from falling by the stability that was natural to Elves. His head throbbed, but he was given barely any chance to notice it, for his captor stormed across to him and grabbed the front of his tunic.

"You," Seregeth growled, pinning the Elfling against the wall, "do not know what you have gotten yourself into. You should be _very_ afraid."

Legolas drew in a sharp breath and tried to pull away as a large hand appeared out of nowhere to slice blade-like through the air. But he was not strong enough to escape the grip. Seregeth struck him, hard, bringing tears of shock into his eyes. Fear filled his heart, real fear, and as the hold on his tunic lessened, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

He had never, not in his whole life, been hit like that. Never. Needless to say he was stunned. He raised a trembling hand to his cheek, which had done nothing more than burn at first. But as he began to recover from his shock, pain set in, and he could not help the tears that escaped from his eyes. He bit down on his lip to try and stop himself from crying – doing that in front of Seregeth was the last thing that he wanted.

"Did that hurt?" the man asked softly. "I hope so, because you needed to be taught a lesson, little one. You need to learn how to respect your elders. Maybe you are not yet afraid of me. Well, this is only the beginning. You will find that there is more to come. Muchmore."

"But last night, I…I thought that you were…" Legolas trailed off, and stared at his captor in unconcealed horror. "I believed for a while that you were…"

"Friendly?" Seregeth sneered cruelly. "I know you did, and what a foolish thing to think."

"But you _made_ me believe it!" the Elfling cried, his voice shaking. "It was your fault that I-

The man suddenly swept forwards, and pushed his forefinger against Legolas' lips, halting the stream of words. "Quiet. I am beginning to tire of your voice. I do not want to hear it again this night. What I do want, however, is for you to think carefully about what has taken place here, and consider how to change your behaviour so that it can be avoided in the future. Can you do that for me?"

With wide and frightened eyes, Legolas nodded slowly. Even if he had wanted to say something, his fear was great enough that it had rendered him speechless. Seregeth smiled at him, and without another word, turned and left. The Elfling was alone. The silence of the room was broken only by the heavy breathing that left his lips as he buried his face into his hands, and sobbed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**I hope this chapter wasn't too long! I originally had it stopping after Ithilen went to Thalion, and then the next chapter started with them going to Thranduil, but then I realised that those chapters on their own would be quite short, so I just put them together and made this. **

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. All reviews are really appreciated and treasured, and I really will try hard to leave replies to them on my bio page. Its just hard when I have so little spare time!**

**Anyway, see you next week!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas stood at the window of his new room, and stared forlornly outside. There was not an awful lot to see from his side of the cottage – trees, trees, a few more trees. At any other time, the sight would have made him smile. He would have been content with it. But in his present predicament, the trees only served as a nasty reminder of Mirkwood, his family, his friends.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and although his eyes flickered, the Prince's face remained impassive. The truth was, he did fear Seregeth, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. He had to be strong though, he _had_ to be. He knew that if his parents were there, they would tell him that he had to rely on his courage until he was back in his own home. And that is exactly what he would do – if not for himself, then for them.

"I will be strong," Legolas murmured, picking his book up from the floor, and pushing it under the pillow. "I _will_ be."

He drew in a deep breath to calm the nerves he would not admit out loud that he had, before pulling open the door and going out into the main room. He went across to the cluttered table and sat in one of the chairs without glancing even once at Seregeth, who sat opposite. The large bowl of fruit was still in front of him, and he absentmindedly reached out to take an apple.

"I don't think so," Seregeth murmured.

Legolas withdrew his hand as he remembered what had taken place the night before. "I am not that hungry anyway," he replied.

The man laughed softly. "I doubt that."

"I really do not care about this," Legolas sighed. "I know that you won't let me die, because even you wouldn't be that cruel. And if you _are_ that cruel, you would keep me here for a while longer before letting me go. I may not be clever. But I'm _not_ stupid."

"Maybe in some respects," Seregeth replied. "Tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

Legolas lowered one hand under the table, and calculated on his fingers. "Not yesterday," he murmured, "and the day before, Amarth only gave me some bread. And the day before that, I didn't eat. So it would have been the day before _that, _in Mirkwood. That's…" He trailed off, and his heart sank.

"Nearly four days," Seregeth said softly. "And you claim to feel no hunger? That is a lie."

And so it was. The Prince glared at the man for a moment, before tearing his gaze away and lowering it to look instead at the floor. Elves could go many days with little or no food, that was true enough. But Elflings…as children, they needed strength, and Legolas was all too aware of that. He bit down worriedly on his lip, and tried not to think about what the effects of this starvation would be. He was not sure that he wanted to know.

"Today, I need to get this room tidy," Seregeth continued, as if their previous conversation had not existed. "As you can see, it is not exactly clean. This table, for instance…"

"I don't know how you can eat off it," Legolas murmured, glancing at the piles of dirty cups and plates, old books and worn clothes strewn over it.

"That will be your job," Seregeth said, ignoring the comment. "The books need to be dusted and re-shelved, the eating and drinking vessels washed, and the clothes also."

Legolas could not help but make a face at that. "The books I don't mind, but the rest…"

"What of it?"

"The plates have half-eaten meals on them!" the Prince said incredulously. "That's not nice! It's awful, and un-hygienic. And as for your clothes…why are they even out here? They belong in your own room, not on the table which people eat from. Do you really expect me to do this?"

"Yes," Seregeth said in a low voice. "I do."

Legolas was torn between shooting the man a cold retort, and just holding his tongue and keeping his thoughts private. The former would be more satisfactory, he felt, but the latter safer. Exhaling deeply, he lowered his eyes to the ground, and nodded once. He knew that it was in his best interests to keep his captor calm.

"Good," Seregeth said softly. "Make a start now, please."

"As you wish."

Legolas jumped off his chair, and gazed disdainfully at the cluttered table. Reaching out a tentative hand to lift a dirty plate, he could feel the man watching him. But he ignored it. A small part of that was merely out of fear, but the larger part was the defiance that he had inherited from his father. Thranduil would not grace the mortal with a glance – nor would his son.

"There are some buckets outside, next to the stable," Seregeth said. "Fill one, and wash the plates in it. If, when you are finished, I am pleased with what you have done, I _might_ allow you some water."

Legolas wanted nothing more than to remain stonily silent, but he gave the briefest incline of his head, and muttered: "Thank you."

"Go on, then," Seregeth said, putting a hand on the child's shoulder, and propelling him towards the door. "Go outside and start your work."

"Yes."

The man sat back in his chair, and watched as his prisoner went out onto the grass, put down the plates, and instantly moved away from them. Small hands were tangled in golden hair, and Seregeth's lips turned upwards in a cold smile as he saw the shaking of slender shoulders. Did Legolas truly believe that carrying out petty chores was all he would get? He could not be more wrong. What the future held in store for him, he would never have dreamed.

"You are mine, Elf," Seregeth murmured. "I own you now. There is no escape."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Queen Laerwen sat on the edge of the large bed she shared with her husband, and exhaled deeply, countless emotions making themselves known in the soft noise. "Thranduil…"

"If you do not wish me to go, just say so," the Elven-king replied. "I will stay here with you, if that is what you want."

"I am torn between two minds. Part of me _does_ want to see you go out into the forest with the patrols and look for our son," Laerwen murmured. "But there is another part that wants you to stay here, and just…hold me, and tell me that everything is going to be alright."

Thranduil sat on the bed beside his wife, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Then I will do both. I do not wish to leave you alone, but you must understand that I hate sitting here and doing nothing to find Legolas. I feel as though I am failing in my duty as his father."

"I understand that, of course I do," Laerwen replied. She turned her face away, and fell silent. A curtain of silver hair fell down to hide the expression she wore. "You will not do it."

"Meleth…?"

"I told you that I wanted you to hold me, and say that everything will be alright," the Queen whispered. "But you will not."

Thranduil touched a hand to his wife's cheek, gently turning her face back so that their eyes met. "No, I will not. I hope for Legolas' return, and I pray for it, but…"

"You do not believe in it."

"I said not so, nor was that what I meant. I do believe that he could come back," the King answered. "But I know that there may come a day when we will simply have to accept that we have lost our child. But that time is not now. It will not come for many days, maybe even weeks. Tell me, do you think he will be found?"

Laerwen moved forwards, and rested her head against her husband's shoulder. "I do not know how to answer that. I want to say yes, but I cannot give myself false hope."

"False hope? But you…you can still feel him, can you not?" Thranduil asked uncertainly. He closed his eyes as the grip around him tightened almost painfully. "But you have not said anything of this."

"I know," the Queen murmured, "and I have kept no secret. I _could_ feel him, but the connection was distant. Now it has faded, and I do not know whether he still lives."

"He lives," Thranduil said firmly. "He _does_ live. I can feel him, even if you cannot."

"That does not surprise me," Laerwen said softly. "My love for him is no less than yours, but you…I do not know how. His spirit was always closer to yours than mine. So yes, I will still believe that he lives, if you can feel him still. But it hurts. Not being able to feel my own child hurts so much."

Thranduil exhaled deeply, and rested a hand on his wife's cheek. "Let me go now. Let me go and look for Legolas. You know that the patrol will not wait, even for me. Their Prince's life takes precedence over my title – as it should."

"Yes, go." But as the other Elf stood, Laerwen grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "Find him, Thranduil. Please…"

The Elven-king locked his silver eyes onto the violet ones before him, and held the gaze for a few seconds, before nodding once. "I will return later this evening."

Laerwen nodded, and let her arm fall limply to her side. "Go, then."

Thranduil turned and went over to the door, but as he reached it, he hesitated. There were patrols already scouring the forest by day, as many patrols as could be spared. At night, the searching lessened, lest the Elves, despite their sharp eyes, overlooked a vital clue. But even in the light of day, they had found nothing. And that was why the King wanted to offer his help – no progress was being made, none at all. But what could he do? Was one Elf enough to make a difference? He could not help but wonder. And then there was his wife…was he right in leaving her?

"Go," Laerwen said softly. "Do not stay here just for me."

The King glanced back over his shoulder and smiled briefly, before pulling open the door and walking swiftly from the room. But as soon as he was outside and alone, the smile faded; and as he leaned back despairingly against the wall, his eyes filled with pain. Since the day of Legolas' disappearance, he had been putting on a front, wearing a mask that concealed the hurt he felt inside. He had to hide it from his advisors, his warriors, his friends, and especially his wife. She was not strong. He had to be, for her. But it was hard, so hard to keep up the pretence when his only child was-

"My Lord?"

Thranduil looked up in surprise, though he was quick to hide it as he realised who had disturbed his peace. "What are you doing here? These rooms are for my family and I only."

"I know that," Thalion replied. "But do you not remember that yesterday, you gave me permission to come here if I needed to see you at any time? You have also done the same with your captains. I-

"Yes, I know, I know," Thranduil snapped, as he recalled his words from the previous day. "What is it that you want, then?"

"Your wife," Thalion said softly. "How is she?"

The Elven-king exhaled deeply, and motioned for the man to follow him down the corridor. "She…she fears not just for Legolas' safety, but also for his life. As do I, but the difference between us is that she does not hold out much hope for his return."

"But it is yet early days," Thalion said.

"Because of my strong connection with Legolas, I know he still lives. I can still feel him, but Laerwen cannot," Thranduil replied. "Mirkwood is a dangerous place. You know that. The forest is perilous to fully grown Elves, so she doubts that a mere Elfling could possibly survive."

"And you yourself?"

"I do not…" The King fell silent, and glanced sideways at the man. "Why do you wish to know? I do not know you, you do not know me, and we are not friends. Why should you care?"

"I see that my courtesy is unwanted," Thalion said coldly. "I will not trouble you again with my concern. But there is one question I would yet like answered. You dislike me very much - I am not blind to that. Why?"

Thranduil reached out and caught the front of the mortal's shirt, pulling him close. "One of your men has done Valar knows what to my only child, and you have the nerve to ask why I dislike you? Do you really not understand why?"

"No, I don't," Thalion replied. "I did not take Legolas; I did not order _Amarth_ to take him. I am giving up my time to aid you in your search. Does that not tell you that I am no enemy? All I want from you is a little more respect, and a little less coldness. It would be much appreciated."

Thranduil pulled his hands back, and nodded once. "I will bear that in mind. Now come, we are wasting precious time."

Thalion narrowed his eyes as the Elf swept past him, but he did not bother with a cutting remark, as he would have liked to. He understood Thranduil's pain – though he could not personally identify with it – but he still believed that, even despite the current situation, a small bit of appreciation was not a lot to ask. But then, not that it bothered him much. He did not remain in Mirkwood to make friends; and as soon as the young Prince was found, he would leave, and not return.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas stared at the stack of bowls and plates that he had spent over an hour cleaning, and as he did so, a thought from nowhere wandered absently into his mind. Why did Seregeth dirty so many eating vessels when he was living on his own in the cottage? Surely he did not find it too much hard work to tidy up after himself at the end of the day?

Not that Legolas cared much, though. He rejected the thought, and glanced back over his shoulder at the cottage – the door was shut, and he could see no movement from the dusty window. Seregeth was in there though, somewhere. Maybe he was watching. The Prince did not like that idea, and immediately returned his gaze to the grass between his feet.

He remembered all too well the set of rules he had been given, and although he resented them, they did not stray far from his mind. One in particular he contemplated with dislike: he was not to leave his task until Seregeth said that he was finished working. And so until that time arrived, all he could do was sit on the ground and play absentmindedly with blades of grass, and make shapes with them on the palm of his hand. It was the only thing he could do to amuse himself without moving too far.

But then something caught his attention – a speck of brown directly in front of him that made odd little bobbing movements every few seconds. He looked up, and smiled to himself. On the other side of the stream sat a rabbit – not a very big one, it has to be said, but a rabbit nonetheless. Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air, and the long ears flopped down by the side of its face. Small dark eyes darted wildly, constantly on the lookout for hidden danger.

"You shouldn't be here," Legolas murmured. "This isn't a very nice place."

The rabbit sniffed the air again, before hopping forwards a few paces. He was favouring his left hind leg, and every time it happened to touch the ground, he would immediately snatch it up, and wait for a few seconds before continuing his journey. He remained oblivious to the little Prince who sat on the opposite side of the stream, watching sympathetically.

'_He is hurt,' _Legolas thought sadly. _'If a fox tried to chase him, he wouldn't get very far. He'd be eaten.'_

The Elfling glanced back once more at the cottage, searching for movement. But still, his eyes found none. If he could get across to the rabbit, reassure it that he was no enemy, and jump back over the stream with it, Seregeth would never know anything had happened. It wouldn't take long – Elves of the Wood had an affinity with all nature. All it would take were a few gentle words, and the creature would place its trust in him.

'_But what if…?' _Legolas' thoughts trailed into nothing as he watched the limping rabbit. _'No, it is hurt. I don't care about Seregeth.'_

He got resolutely to his feet, and without a backward glance, jumped across the thin part of the stream. The rabbit snapped its head around and stared through frightened eyes at the newcomer, but other than that, it made no movement. Legolas breathed an inward sigh of relief – if the creature had bolted, matters would have been complicated very much.

"_Mellon-nin_," he said softly, kneeling on the floor. "_Legolas i enneth nín, telin le thaed._ _Estelio-nín_."

The rabbit cocked his head to one side, listening intently. The childish voice was soft and musical, and helped to calm the nerves that had naturally been felt. He was unable to understand the words, but that mattered little. He took comfort in them; and slowly, the tension in his body diminished, and his dark eyes lost the wild fear that they had first of all held.

Legolas held his breath, and reached out a hand. He held it still for a moment, giving the animal time to realise that he meant no harm, before lowering it. His fingers brushed against the long ears, and although the rabbit quivered, it did nothing else. The Prince smiled, and gently stroked the brown fur, careful not to make any sudden movements that would startle the creature.

He looked down at the rabbit's left hind leg, wondering if he could identify what the problem was. It did not seem to be anything too serious, he reflected, for there was no blood. More than likely it was merely a thorn that had got caught in one of the soft pads. He thought he would be able to get it out, but first he had to make it back to the other side of the stream, so that his breaking of the rule would not-

"Legolas!"

The rabbit bolted, pain forgotten. The Prince snapped his head up, and stared in horror as Seregeth came striding across the grass. His blue eyes flashed like blades in moonlight, and the expression he wore was a horribly cold one. He stopped just by the stack of bowls and plates, and with arms folded across his chest, looked across at the child.

"Come back over to this side," he said softly. "Go into the cottage, and wait for me. I will not be long."

Legolas bit down on his lip, but nodded as he stood, and leapt back to the grassy side of the stream. "I didn't do that on purpose," he began to explain. "There was a rabbit, and it was hurt, so I-

"The rabbit I saw," Seregeth cut in. "Go inside."

"Yes," Legolas said quietly.

The man stared straight ahead and did not speak, listening to the barely audible sounds of the child's footsteps as he ran back across the grass. As the door shut, Seregeth pulled a knife from his belt, and looked down at it. He ran his fingers slowly across the blade, not even wincing as a bubble of blood formed above his skin. His eyes glittered, and without another look back at the cottage, he stepped across to the other side of the stream. Yet he was fully aware of the silver eyes watching, from the window, his every move.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The commanding officer of Mirkwood's troops looked around, and exhaled deeply. He stood in the forest with two groups of twenty Elven soldiers, and the King and Thalion also present. He had already decided that one contingent under his command would head westwards, and the other would move east, with Captain Celorfyn. Yet there was still one small problem.

"What are we waiting for?" Thranduil asked, fighting to keep the impatience from his voice.

"I need only a minute more," Alondir replied. "Then we will move out."

The veteran warrior fiddled absentmindedly with his bowstring as thoughts whirled through his mind. To make the number in each of the groups even, Thranduil and Thalion would have to be separated. An easy option, it might seem, to one who was aware of the dislike between the two. But not to Alondir's eyes.

"Very well," he said slowly. "Hír-nin, if you could come with my patrol? And Thalion…"

"Yes?"

The commander hesitated only for a moment, before nodding decisively. "You also will join me."

"The matter is resolved, so let us leave now, and waste no more time," Thranduil said, his voice level. He wore no expression to suggest any dislike for the situation, but was hard put to keep the frustration from flashing in his eyes.

As Celorfyn's patrol set off eastwards, Alondir moved to his friend, and smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, if the decision was wrong."

"I knew you would do it," Thranduil replied. "It came as no surprise."

"You must understand that the animosity between the two of you has to be put aside," Alondir said seriously. "I kept him with you because you _cannot_ avoid each other. This is a chance for you to get used to his company, and he to get used to yours. Both of you have to accept that until this ordeal is over, you are stuck together. If you could put aside your differences – whatever they may be – it would be helpful. And appreciated."

Thranduil glanced sideways at his friend, and nodded once. "I know. Now, look at the sun. Time is passing. We should go."

'_That was a change of subject if ever I saw one,' _the veteran warrior thought. He smiled, and touched a hand to the King's shoulder. "Of course. We will leave now."

"Alondir, do you…do you think that Legolas is…afraid?" Thranduil turned away, and lowered his eyes to the ground. "I hate knowing that he could be alone, and frightened, and neither Laerwen nor I are there to comfort him."

"I understand that. But you should also know that there is nothing you can do about it, no matter how much you want to. Reality cannot be changed," Alondir said softly.

"Of course I know that, but it does not comfort me," Thranduil replied. He paused and glanced back at his friend, blue eyes flashing with steely determination. "Come. Let us go and find my son."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas stared down at the floor, and chewed anxiously on his lip. He had already been afraid of what would happen to him for breaking a rule, but what now increased his fear was the fact that he had been sent into the cottage nearly an hour back, yet Seregeth still remained somewhere outside. What he was doing, the Prince did not know. He only wished he would hurry up, so that the whole thing could be over and done with.

'_And the rabbit…'_ Legolas thought sadly. _'I hope it doesn't get eaten.'_

The door swung open, and he snapped his eyes up quickly. They met the cold gaze of Seregeth, and although his heart pounded like a hammer against his chest, the Elfling made sure that he showed no discomfort on his face. He would be brave. Just because he was afraid inside, there was no reason for his captor to know of his fear.

"So," Seregeth said softly, "what do you have to say, little one?"

"I don't know," Legolas murmured. "Maybe…sorry."

"Maybe…sorry." The man made a slight gesture with his hands. "Yes, I suppose you could. But I did tell you that to break rules means that you will be punished, so an apology really makes no difference at all."

The child swallowed nervously, but nodded all the same. "I know what you told me. And I _am_ sorry, I really am. But I've already told you why I went across the stream. I wanted to try and help the-

"Rabbit, I know," Seregeth cut in. "Forget about that…for the moment. Now though, I am sorry also. I do not want to do this, but you leave me no choice."

"Do it, whatever it is."

"How brave you are."

The man reached down and caught his prisoner's wrist, pulling the small hand towards him. He ran his fingers over the pale skin, smiling vaguely as he felt Legolas trembling under his touch. Though, he was not oblivious to the control that the Elfling was trying desperately hard to gain over his fear. Seregeth locked his blue eyes onto the silver ones before him, and the gaze was held. Neither of them backed down, though it was undisputable which of the two would have triumphed in the battle, if the mortal had not suddenly whipped his spare hand into his pocket, and pulled from it a length of black leather.

Legolas gasped as he realised what was going to happen, and he pulled himself away from the fingers that were wrapped around his wrist. He took a few steps backwards, away from Seregeth, and quickly hid his hands behind his back. His eyes flashed with a mix of fear and defiance, and the expression on his face also flickered – it seemed as though he was unable to decide which emotion was superior.

"Tell me," Seregeth said softly, "when you dwelt in Mirkwood, was bad behaviour not punished?"

"Yes, but not like…not like that," Legolas replied, gesturing at the length of leather. "If I got into trouble or made my parents angry, they would make me go to bed early, or they would tell my tutor to give me extra work, or they wouldn't let me play with my friends. But they would _never_ hurt me. Not on purpose. Ada hurt me once, but he didn't mean it."

"Indeed."

"Yes. He was complaining that someone hadn't listened to him in a meeting. This was at night, and he was getting changed. He pulled off his belt; and because he was angry, he sort of…snapped it as it came off, and it hit me in the eye," Legolas explained softly. "I cried, even though I knew he didn't do it on purpose. And then Nana came in and thought that Ada really _had_ meant to hit me. She was angry, and didn't speak to him for a long time."

The Elfling smiled sadly as he remembered. "But then a few days later, she was sewing, and she pricked me with her needle when she leaned across the table to get something. Ada said that she had done it on purpose. That made her upset. But then she realised he was only saying what she had said to him before, so she apologised." Legolas shook himself mentally. He couldn't let himself get captured by the past. Looking up at Seregeth, he shrugged his shoulders. "So, they never hurt me on purpose. They wouldn't."

"I do not think you have yet realised that I differ from your parents," the man said. "Everyone has different ways of doing things. This is my way. If you are unhappy with it, I am afraid you will just have to accept it."

Legolas stared at the ground for a few seconds, but when he raised his eyes, there was a steely glint of determination in them. He could face this. He was the son of one of the finest warriors that Middle-Earth had ever seen. And he knew that if his father was put in a position like this, he would not be afraid. He would give Seregeth one of his most withering looks, and accept what was going to happen.

'_Ada would be brave,' _Legolas told himself. _'I can be also.'_

He took a step forwards and held out his hand, all the while staring defiantly at his captor. Seregeth, who had been momentarily put out by the sudden courage that the Elfling showed, shook himself. There was no need for him to worry. It was early days yet, and although he perceived that Legolas possessed some inner strength, it would not be long before that was stolen from him.

The man raised his arm, and snapped the leather strap sharply across the palm of his prisoner's hand. The Prince, even though he had been expecting it, blinked in surprise. But he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to remain silent. It had hurt, but he would not give his captor the pleasure of knowing that.

Seregeth struck him again and again. He was unsure whether or not he would hear the Elfling cry on this occasion, but there would be plenty of other times. And he took comfort in that as he repeatedly brought the leather strap down onto Legolas' hand. The normally pale skin had turned red, and bright lines had appeared as proof of the vicious attack.

Legolas could feel tears beginning to prick at his eyes, but he swallowed hard and blinked them back. _'It won't be long now,' _he thought. _'Seregeth will stop soon.'_

And he did. He struck the Elfling only a few more times, before lowering his arm and dropping the strap onto the table. He looked down into the shining silver eyes and held the gaze, but said nothing. A vague smiled tugged at his lips, but it was an unreadable one. The expression on his face was neutral, though his blue orbs glittered, and inside…inside, he was laughing.

Legolas lowered his arm to his side, and gently flexed his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he said softly: "Have you finished? Can I go back to my work now, or is there more?"

Seregeth was surprised at the calm voice, but he masked it quickly. "There is one more thing, yes. Come with me."

The man turned and strode to the door without another word. Legolas, also silent, followed him from the cottage, swiping quickly at his eyes to get rid of the evidence of his hurt. He was quite sure that if either of his parents had punished him in such a way, he would have shed a good many tears – which was perfectly acceptable and natural, at his age. And tears _should_ have been acceptable on this occasion. But they were not. Because tears would show that he was hurting, and would show that he was afraid. And that was the last thing he wanted.

'_He will never see me cry again,' _the Elfling thought, gritting his teeth and nodding determinedly. _'I will never let him know that I'm upset.'_

"Perhaps you were wondering why I took a while to come into you earlier," Seregeth said, breaking into the silent vows. "Well, I will show you now. I was busy setting traps for your little friend."

Legolas' head snapped up, and he stared in disbelief. "You didn't!"

"I am afraid so. It was because of the vermin that this happened, so I was merely working to prevent us having to go through it again." Seregeth stood above a pile of cloths covering a small lump, and smiled. "You should be grateful."

"Grateful!" Legolas spat, pain forgotten. "The rabbit was not the vermin. You are!"

"That most certainly is not gratitude, little Elf," Seregeth said softly.

"You don't deserve any," the Prince said in a low voice, "so I'm not going to give it to you."

The man shrugged carelessly. "Have it your own way. But know that every insolent word you say only deepens the hole you dig for yourself. Try and save yourself before it is too late."

Legolas looked up through narrowed eyes, but despite his cool exterior, inside, his heart thudded against his chest. What in all of Arda did that last comment mean? It sounded ominous, and he did not like it at all. Save himself before it was too late. What did…? He wanted very much to question Seregeth, but the pride which had been inherited from his father prevented him. He remained stonily silent.

"Well," the man continued. "I am going to prepare my supper. As for you, little one, you are going to remain out here and clean the horse's stable."

The Prince bit back a cry of grief as Seregeth pulled the dead rabbit out from under the pile of cloths. He was young, but he knew, even though he had not experienced it, what death was. It pained him to see an animal killed for no valid reason. And that was just it. There really was no reason. He was fully aware that the creature had lost its life purely because the man had known it would upset him.

"Do not waste time," Seregeth said. "Start. Now."

Legolas stared straight ahead, and inclined his head ever so briefly. He would not argue; he would not dispute what he had been told; he would not contradict his captor. No more rules would be broken by him today. He would obey the orders without causing any trouble – he had no choice.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Mellon-nin_. _Legolas i enneth nín, telin le thaed._ _Estelio-nín_. – My friend. I am Legolas; I've come to help you. Trust me.

**I think this chapter will appear on Monday instead of Sunday, because I'm in England and it is nearly midnight. I think that a lot of you are in America or Canada, so you'll be a few hours ahead of me. Anyway, the reason I'm up late posting is because I was working yesterday from 12-7 and today from 10-6, and I just wanted to sleep when I got home! **

**Anyway, as before, all responses to reviews are on my profile page. To get there, just click on my name. **

**See you next week!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	7. Chapter 7

Legolas lay on his mattress, with the thin sheet wrapped tightly around his body. It was night, and he had been allowed to leave the company of Seregeth nearly two hours back. He was tired, but sleep had not come near. His silver eyes had long ago found a constellation of stars through the window to rest on, in the hope that their calm twinkle would be enough to lull him into the world of dreams. But that had not happened, nor would it for a long time, he knew.

'_If I was at home and I couldn't sleep,' _Legolas thought, _'I would go to Ada and Nana. They would let me stay with them. But that won't happen here.'_

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. The day had not been a happy one. First of all there had been the abuse inflicted upon the tender skin of his hand, and then there was the rabbit. Seregeth had stuck to his word, and had eaten the creature for his evening meal, forcing his captive to watch him do so, yet not even offering a small bit of meat. It seemed that he really did mean what he had said about starving the child.

'_I am so hungry, but even if he had offered me some of the rabbit meat, I wouldn't have taken it,' _Legolas thought bitterly. _'It was horrible of him to have killed it in the first place, but eating it was even-_

The door opened, cutting him off mid-way through his sad reflections. He immediately turned his head to the side, hoping against hope that Seregeth would think him asleep, and would leave once more. But it was not to be. The man knelt beside the mattress; and, placing a hand on the child's shoulder, shook him. There was no reaction, and he shook a little harder.

"Legolas, wake up," he hissed.

"Seregeth? What is it?"

"Come with me," the mortal replied. "There is something that you must see."

"Now?" Legolas asked, glancing out at the dark sky. "But it is late. What time is it?"

"Gone midnight," Seregeth answered. "Put your cloak on over your sleeping tunic, and come to the stables. Do not be long, else you will miss it."

The Elfling got up and shook his head as his captor left the room without another word. To say that he was not confused would have been an untruth. But curiosity overcame bewilderment, and he draped his cloak over his shoulders, pulling it close as he followed Seregeth outside the cottage and into the chill air of the night that penetrated him like daggers – at such a young age, he was not yet immune to the cold as elder immortals were.

"Come," the man said softly, without turning from where he stood in the open doorway of the left hand part of the stable.

Legolas paused, and let his eyes rest on the other's back. "What is it?"

Seregeth laughed quietly. "You are wary of coming too close, for fear of my hurting you. I will not. You may go back inside, if you so wish. I merely thought that this would be something you would like to see."

His curiosity pushed far enough, Legolas went forwards and stood beside the man. His primary instinct was to immediately distance himself, but what he saw made him draw in a sharp breath, and momentarily forget his discomfort. For lying in the straw inside the stable was the large female dog. Damp was her patchy fur, and her pink tongue lolled from her mouth. At the side of the room a dark male dog sat, watching the proceedings impassively.

"She is having her puppies," Legolas breathed.

"Yes. She has had four already, and I think that there is only one left to come," Seregeth answered. "Do not venture in yet, else the male dog will snap at you. He is protective, and that protectiveness could lead to ferocity."

Legolas winced as the bitch whined in distress. "Is it hurting her?"

"Of course. This is a pain that all mothers must endure," Seregeth replied. "This is her first litter, but she is very strong. She has produced some fine pups already. They will earn good money."

"Money?"

"You did not think that I would keep them all, did you? Where do you propose they live? I have room enough for them at this size, but when they grow, they will be sold in town." Seregeth paused, and moved his eyes down towards the child. "But I have not forgotten my promise to you: if your behaviour pleases me, you may keep one for yourself."

"What if you don't manage to sell them all?" Legolas asked. "Will you bring them back here?"

"Like I said, there would be no room," Seregeth answered. "I would have to drown the remaining ones."

"That is cruel."

"I cannot be overrun with dogs."

Legolas opened his mouth to argue his point, but closed it again when he noticed what was happening inside the stable. The last puppy was indeed on the way. Holding his breath in anticipation, the child bit down on his lower lip excitedly. Never before had he been a witness to the arrival of a new life, but he understood now why it was such a special event.

But despite that, he was unable to pick just one word to explain how the birth made him feel. He felt privileged to be allowed to see such a thing; he was excited, and looking forwards to when the puppies would start playing; and yet, a great sadness was also on him, for some time in the near future, the young animals would be separated from their parents, and he knew only too well what that was like.

"How long will they stay here before you sell them?" Legolas murmured.

"Five weeks, I expect. That will give me enough time to gradually wean them off their mother's milk. Some would say that is too soon, but from experience, I know it to be just fine," Seregeth replied.

"Five weeks old." Legolas sighed deeply, and his silver eyes were sad. "It is better, I think, that they are taken from their parents at that age. At least they will have few memories, and will not really know what's happening to them."

Seregeth looked down sharply, and shook his head. "Do not try and compare yourself to these animals, Legolas. Both situations are very different."

"That wasn't what I was trying to do," the Elfling replied. "But now that you mention it, I would rather…actually…no, it doesn't matter. I don't know really."

"Please, elaborate."

"I was going to say I wish that I had been taken from Ada and Nana when I was only a baby. That way, I would have no memories, and it wouldn't be so sad. You can't miss what you've never had," Legolas said slowly. "But then I realised that would mean never knowing my parents at all, and never being loved, so…I don't know."

Seregeth smiled as the child shrugged helplessly. "I see. Just be thankful that you were able to spend a good few years with your mother and father. Surely knowing them for a small amount of time is better than not at all?"

"Don't try and be nice to me!" Legolas snapped. "Don't try and pretend that you understand, and don't try and make me feel better! You aren't, you don't, and you can't. You don't know what it feels like, so I don't want you, the man who's keeping me from Ada and Nana, to try and be sympathetic. Just don't."

"And don't you tell me what to do," Seregeth said, a warning bite to his voice.

Legolas gritted his teeth together in frustration, and contented himself with shooting the man a cold look instead of words that he knew would only cause trouble. He held the blue gaze for a moment, before directing his attention back into the stable. As he did so, a sudden smile graced his features, and his eyes flickered happily. The final puppy was on its way! It would not be long now, not long at all.

'_It's exciting to watch, but I'm glad I am a boy and not a girl,' _Legolas thought. _'I wouldn't want to do this.'_

"Nearly there," Seregeth said softly.

The bitch's muscles tensed for a moment, and then with one last push, she delivered her final child. Her head sank down to rest in the damp straw for a few brief seconds, but was up again almost immediately, searching for the newborn. She twisted her body around and began licking the pup, whose high-pitched squeals of protest echoed in the small space.

Legolas screwed up his face. "Why…?"

"This is what must be done within two minutes of the puppy's birth," Seregeth explained. "It is covered with a soft layer of tissue which must be removed, otherwise it will suffocate."

"Oh. Then, did that…did that happen to me?" Legolas asked uncertainly.

This time it was the man's turn to screw up his face. "Of course not! Have you not been taught about the birthing process?"

"No, not yet. Anyway, I don't want to be a healer, so I never asked," the child replied. "I want to be a warrior, like Ada. I want to protect my family and friends from Orcs and spiders, and I want to be able to ride fast horses, and I want to climb trees without being told off; and…"

He trailed off into silence, and let out a deep exhale of breath that spoke only too clearly of his misery. Whatever else he might want, having Seregeth know all about his hopes and dreams was the very last thing. He didn't want to hold a conversation in any form with the man. But it was hard to keep his thoughts to himself when there was no-one else whom he could tell of them.

"You may see the puppies again in the morning," Seregeth said softly. "I think that we should leave the family alone now."

Legolas took a last look at the exhausted mother and her newborns, before nodding once and turning back to the cottage. He had taken only a few steps though, when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, holding him still. He closed his eyes briefly as the mortal stepped before him; and he wondered irritably what on Arda was wanted with him this time.

"You and I," Seregeth began, "_could_ be friends."

The child frostily arched an eyebrow, his expression eerily reminiscent of one of his father's best. "Would you become friends with someone who was holding you prisoner, away from those you love? Would you become friends with someone who hurt you?"

"Maybe not at first, but after, who knows?" Seregeth replied. "You despise me, I am not blind to that. And you have good reason to, I suppose. But really, I _can_ be a nice man. You just have to take some time to adjust to the situation."

"I will remember that," Legolas said softly. "May I go now?"

Seregeth nodded his consent with a smile, but as soon as the Elfling had turned away, it was replaced with a vicious sneer. Nice? That word and his name had not been used in the same sentence for many years – too many for him to remember. And in any case, his efforts had been wasted this time. Legolas had not believed him, as deep down, he had expected.

"But that does not concern me," Seregeth murmured. "I know that I have time enough to break you."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thranduil glanced across at Alondir, and gestured around the clearing they had stopped in. "We may as well rest here for a few minutes. This is as good a place as any."

"As you wish," the commanding officer replied. He turned to the Elven soldiers, and nodded once. "You have heard the orders. Take this short time to refresh yourselves. We move on again in no more than ten minutes."

"I sense something in your voice," Thranduil said slowly. "You speak stiffly; your words are forced. I have not heard that from you since the Last Alliance."

Alondir exhaled as he sat on the ground and rested his back against a tree trunk. "Worry not for me. You are the one who has lost a child, not I."

"No." The Elven-king shook his head as he sat beside his friend. "You were close to him, I know that. And I am sorry. I did not stop to think that this would be hurting you also."

"You have had more than enough on your mind," Alondir replied, flicking his wrist dismissively. "I did not expect you to think of me."

"Maybe. But come, why do we speak so solemnly?" Thranduil smiled, for his own reassurance if not his friend's. "Legolas may not have been found yet, but we both knew it was inevitable that finding him would take time and patience."

"Of course." Alondir stood, and forced himself to smile back. "I need a moment alone now to think of what course we will take."

As the commanding officer moved away, Thranduil drew in a deep breath, and pulled his knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, gazing about, eyes piercing the surrounding dimness, and the trees and bushes. He knew what he hoped to see, but also knew that he wouldn't. It hurt. It hurt, knowing that his son was somewhere in the forest – and Mirkwood was no small place – but the two were unable to be together.

"May I sit here?"

The Elven-king looked up in surprise. So caught up in thoughts had he been, the footsteps had gone un-noticed. "Feel free."

"Thank you." Thalion sat in front of the Elf, and jerked his head back to where Alondir stood talking with some of the others. "I hope my saying this does not offend you, but if I may…"

"Go on."

"I think that a few of your soldiers are reluctant to carry on searching for your son."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the words, and shook his head. "What do you mean by that?"

"I have heard them. They say that finding Prince Legolas in this forest is as easy as finding a Halfling in a stack of hay," Thalion replied. "They grieve for his loss, of course, but they believe that their efforts are fruitless, and nothing will come of them save prolonged false hope."

"Do you tell me this to cause trouble or are you being sincere?" Thranduil asked suspiciously.

The man's eyes flashed, and he leaned forwards to keep his words private. "I know that you dislike me, and that does not bother me. I do not want or ask for your friendship. I have already told you that all I want is a little more respect, but I do not seem to be receiving any."

"Forgive my negligence," Thranduil said coldly.

Thalion's hand shot out as though to grab the Elf's tunic, but he hissed and quickly drew it back, as though remembering who it was before him. "I am a captain of maybe thirty men. That may not be as many as you have, but nonetheless, if there was doubt, resentment, animosity, _anything_ going on in that group, I would want to know so that I could take action to make things right. That is why I told you. But if this is the sort of gratitude that I receive, it will not happen again."

Thranduil gazed at the man in wonder. Few could speak to him thusly and escape without becoming a victim of the temper that he was so famous for. In fact, he could probably count on just one hand the number of people who ever dared to raise their voices to him. Mithrandir was one of the exceptions – but then, the Istar was afraid of and could be cowed by no-one; Alondir, who had always been like a second father; and a few of Oropher's old councillors who still struggled to accept that their headstrong and unruly Prince had become their King.

"Do you have anything to say to that?" Thalion asked softly. "Or will I not be graced with a reply?"

Without even sparing the man a glance, never mind a reply, Thranduil stood and walked to where his soldiers were gathered. They broke off their conversations as soon as their Lord's presence was felt; and a few of the younger ones who had only recently joined Mirkwood's troops, gazed at him in awe and reverence. Alondir merely watched impassively from the side.

"I have lost my only child," Thranduil began. "Maybe not to death, but I have lost him all the same. As his King and even more so as his father, it is _my_ duty to save him. None of you have to be here. You _should_ be here, but it is not mandatory. It has come to my attention that some of you are unhappy with this situation. I do not care to know who, but I will say this to you all: you know the way back to the palace. If your wish is to return, then do so, and do so now. No-one will stop you. But you _will_ lose what self-respect you had. It is the life of your Prince that is in jeopardy. I expected all of you to _willingly _help find him. Clearly my expectations were wrong. Now, we leave here in two minutes. Those of you who wish to return home, that is how long you have to get out of my sight."

There was silence. No-one moved. A few of the older soldiers looked as though they wanted to step forwards and defend themselves, but the burning gaze of their King stopped them even before they had started. Thranduil looked at each of the company in turn, holding their eyes with his own flashing ones until either he himself chose to disengage, or they looked away out of respect, fear or guilt.

"They will not stop searching until Legolas is safely home," Alondir said softly. "Not one of them will be returning to the palace at this time."

"No, my Lord," one of the soldiers murmured. "It pains our hearts to think of the young Prince out here. We will not forsake our honour or our duty."

"Good. It should not have come to this, and I do not wish to speak in this way to any of you again." Thranduil caught the expressions the younger Elves wore, and smiled to take the edge from his words. "And now if there is nothing else, we will move on."

"Be ready to leave in one minute," Alondir contributed quietly. "We must waste as little time as possible."

The Elven-king was still for a moment, but then he turned and swept towards Thalion, who stood at the edge of the clearing. "There is no longer a problem," he said shortly. "But I thank you for alerting me to the whisperings."

"No matter. I know that I would want to be aware of them if I was in your position," the man answered. "I am glad that you have it sorted."

"Hmm. Come, we leave now," Thranduil said quietly.

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"You and I are not enemies. We are working towards the same goal: finding Legolas and bringing him home safely. Yet the way we are together suggests that we are anything but allies," Thalion replied. He paused, and held out his right hand. "I would be happy to set aside our differences for this."

Thranduil was silent, and a humourless smile appeared on his face as he gazed down at the man's outstretched hand. "No. I do not know you. I do not like you. I do not trust you. Trust has to be earned, Thalion, before two individuals can ally themselves. Prove yourself to me, and maybe I will consider it."

"Prove myself?" the man repeated. "How might I do that?"

The Elf hesitated, struggling to hold back the words that had for so many days been present in his mind. Strong forces of hatred and anger tugged at him as he looked into the green eyes before him, and he found his thoughts suddenly being voiced. "Prove to me that you are innocent, that you were not in on Amarth's plans to take my child," he hissed. "Prove to me that you are helping us, not for your own ends, but because you genuinely fear for Legolas. You-

"You think that I knew Amarth's mind all along?" Thalion snapped. "You believe that I am as guilty as he? If that is so, why do I still live? Why am I still here?"

"Because I am waiting for you to prove yourself," Thranduil answered simply. He turned, and started to walk away. "Come."

"Wait."

"Why do you stop me now?"

Thalion stepped forwards, and stared into the Elf's silver eyes. His own were cold with barely suppressed fury. "One of these days you will find someone who resents your words, and who will not just stand idly by and listen whilst he is accused of crimes he is not guilty of. Then you will regret what you say."

"Are you implying that someone is you?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Thalion answered in a low voice. "But we will have to wait and see. Won't we?"

"I suppose we will, and I look forward to finding out," Thranduil said silkily. "Now though, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Finding my son, for instance. Unless, of course, you have anything else important to say."

"I have many other words to speak, but Legolas' safety is our priority," the man replied.

"I am glad we agree on one thing."

That said, Thranduil turned away and left the human standing alone. Green eyes flashing furiously, Thalion hissed a string of curses under his breath, unable to prevent a bubble of hatred rising up inside his chest. Hatred…that was a feeling he had not known for years. The last time it had infected him, he had seen only fourteen summers; but his young age had not prevented him from channelling that hatred towards the one who had conceived it: his father. The monstrous emotion had been let loose, and the damage it had wreaked was greater than he had ever imagined. And it had been bloody.

He could remember the blood now, spilling through his fingers as he rested a hand on his father's chest, trying to find a heartbeat. There had been one, but felt only faintly. And so, with his sister, he had run to a nearby town where he was immediately taken in by another family. The love they gave him had tamed the monster, and it had lain dormant for many years. But now as Thalion watched the Elven-king of Mirkwood speaking with Commanding Officer Alondir, he felt it awakening once more.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

**Thranduil had better watch out, that's all I can say. Anyway, a thousand apologies for the delay in updating. I tried really hard to get this chapter up for Sunday evening, but I was so tired after working all day that I had to get to bed and sleep. But it's up now, and hopefully the next one will be up on time. **

**Responses to reviews are on my bio page, as always! **

**See you on Sunday!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, as soon as the sun began to show her face, Legolas leapt up from his mattress, sprinted across to the door, wrenched it open, and was out of the room like a flash of lightning. The larger main room was empty, yet so caught up was he in his excitement that he did not take the chance to eat some fruit or bread whilst Seregeth was still abed. Instead, he ran straight out of the cottage to the stables, a smile gracing his features as his sharp hearing caught the sounds of crying puppies. Ever since he had left the newborns last night, he had been looking forward to seeing them again.

Aduial's head was hanging over her stable door, and she whickered a soft greeting to her new friend as he appeared. The Elfling smiled and stopped for a second to stroke her velvety nose, but then he was moving on again to the other stall. His heart sank immediately. Although the top half of the door was thrown open, the bottom remained firmly shut, and it was that which had caused problems before. He was too short to see over it, and he had needed Seregeth to lift him.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, and glared at the bottom half of the door. _'I am not going to ask for help,' _he thought determinedly. _'I can do it on my own.'_

He raised himself up to the tips of his toes, and outstretched his arm as far as it could possibly go, in an effort to pull back the bolt – which looked stiff as it was – so that the door would swing open. But he could not reach. He jumped up, and although his fingers just grazed the rusty bolt, he was unable to get a grip on it. His lips unconsciously formed a childish pout, and defeated, he stared hard at the door, as though willing it to open on its own.

"Having trouble?"

Seregeth. Legolas did not turn to face him, but made a non-committal gesture with his hands. "Only a little. I cannot reach."

"Pity. I suppose you came out to see the new family," the man said, coming to a halt at the stable. "Evidently you could not wait to lay eyes on them again. You were up and about even before I was."

"Yes. You did say last night that I could see them this morning," Legolas answered. "I am not breaking any rules, I have done nothing wrong."

"Did I say otherwise?" Seregeth leaned on the stable door, and watched the canine family inside. A smile played on his face as he sensed the Elfling shift beside him. "I know you want to see them. And you know that means asking for help. Will you, I wonder? Or will you stay proudly silent?"

Legolas raised himself on tiptoes again, but it did nothing to help him catch a glimpse of the puppies, as he had expected. "I have to, don't I?" he asked softly. "Otherwise I will not see them, and I want to. So, will you help me? Will you please open the door or lift me up?"

"How polite," Seregeth sneered.

"I asked," Legolas said quietly. "Are you going to help?"

The man pulled back the bolt without a word, and as the door swung open, he watched through narrowed eyes as his captive edged forwards to gaze into the dim stable. The scene was much as it was last night: the mother lay in the straw with her five newborns scrambling blindly over each other to get at her milk, and the father watched impassively from the corner. One brown eye was fixed on his family, but the other was trained on the intruders in the doorway.

"He does not like us being here," Seregeth observed softly.

"Maybe not you."

"What does that mean?"

"I have never seen an animal afraid of me," Legolas shrugged. "I have never been disliked by one. They trust Elves, you see. They can sense that we are their friends."

"Isn't that charming," Seregeth sneered. He paused, and then slammed the bottom half of the stable door shut, forcing the child to jump back to avoid being hit. "That is enough. I have work for you to do."

"Already? But I have only been here for a few minutes," Legolas protested. "I haven't seen the puppies for very long, I-

"Yes. But this is a treat, would you not say? And treats must be earned. So, if you please me today, I will reward you with some time to watch the new family," Seregeth answered. "Does that seem fair?"

"I…yes."

"Good. Now, I want you to-

"May I say something?"

The man's eyes narrowed at the interruption, but he nodded all the same. "If you must."

Legolas was silent for a moment, readying himself for what he was about to say. He drew in a deep breath, and raised his eyes to meet the man's. "I am not doing any work for you." There. It was out.

"Oh, are you not?"

"No."

Seregeth folded his arms across his chest, and stared down at his captive. "Do you wish to explain yourself?"

"I have decided over the past few days, that no matter what you say, Amarth was telling me the truth. You have hit me, you have shouted at me, you have taken an innocent life just to upset me; and that is cruel. You are exactly as Amarth described you," Legolas said quietly. "He told the truth about that, so there is no reason why he should not have told the truth about these chores that you are making me do. He said they will stop after a short while anyway, so why not just stop them now? I already know it will happen. By carrying on in this way, you are wasting my time and your own. Aren't you?"

"Are you quite finished?" Seregeth asked silkily.

"Yes."

"Good."

The man swung his fist back and slammed it forcefully into the child's face. Legolas was thrown back against the wall of the stable, and splinters of wood grazed his cheek. Blood spilled from his nose and split lip, and he caught some of it in his hands. He stared at it in horror for a moment, before looking up to meet Seregeth's eyes. He shook his head slowly, too shocked to speak.

"Was the episode with the rabbit not enough to teach you?" the mortal shouted, grabbing the Elfling's tunic and shaking him hard. "You break my rules, you get hurt. You know that! You do not question what I do. Ever! Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Legolas managed to choke out. "I do."

"Good." Seregeth threw the boy from him, and took a step backwards. "I want you to wash the floors and windows inside the cottage. That will be your work for this morning. Are you going to do that without argument?"

"Yes," Legolas whispered. "But may I clean myself up first, please? I want to get rid of the blood."

"I think not. It will serve as a reminder to you of what happens if you dispute my word," Seregeth answered coldly.

"But I-

"You are arguing!"

Legolas looked at the blood on his fingers, and blinked back the tears that were pricking his eyes. "I am sorry," he said in a low voice. "I will do what you ask of me."

"I expect no less. Off you go, then. Oh no, before you leave, would you mind refreshing my memory?" Seregeth asked, his voice saccharine sweet. "How many days since you last ate?"

The Elfling unconsciously pressed a hand to his abdomen. He needed to eat. The previous night he had spent lying awake, feeling as though his empty stomach was being stabbed by sharp knives of hunger. He had never gone this long without food. And he had never really appreciated that when living in Mirkwood, he could eat – within reason – anything he wanted at any time.

"How many days?"

"Five," Legolas whispered. "Nearly six."

"Five, nearly six." Seregeth shook his head, and made a clicking noise with his tongue. "You must be hungry indeed. Well, never mind. I am going to allow you to eat this evening. Is that fair of me, do you think?"

"Yes."

"I think so too. Before you start your work for me this morning, you may have a cup of water," Seregeth continued. "Just one, mind. And remember that you do not stop working until I tell you to."

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, I will not be here to overlook what you do," the man said. "I am meeting somebody in town, but I should be no longer than thirty minutes."

"Yes. I…what?" Legolas jerked his head up in surprise. "You are leaving me here?"

"I have business in the town. It is unavoidable, and I have no choice but to leave you," Seregeth answered. "I am trusting you to stay put and continue with your chores. I am confident that you will not fail in that trust."

"Why?"

"Because you saw what happened to the horse when she took advantage of my absence," Seregeth said with a smile. "And I am sure you do not want the same thing to happen to you, do you?"

"No. But why are you going to-

"You will find out soon enough," the mortal cut in. "Now. Make a start on your work."

As Legolas turned and walked back to the cottage, his aching nose and lip were forgotten, and his mind was whirling furiously. His captor was leaving. He would be alone. Yes, he did know what had happened to Aduial, but would it not be easier for him to escape? He was an Elf, after all. His feet would not leave prints, and he could hide in the trees. If there would ever be a time to escape, this was it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in Mirkwood, the patrols had returned to the palace with no news to give their Queen of the whereabouts of her only child. It was what she had expected, but tears still pooled in her eyes upon seeing the expressions of sadness worn by her husband and the soldiers. If she had anticipated comfort from Thranduil, though, she did not receive any. He had shut himself away in his study, without a word to her or anyone else. Apparently losing Legolas was starting to take its toll on him also.

Thalion had muttered a few words of apology to Laerwen, before going back to his room and locking the door. Lying on his bed, he had been taken by sleep almost immediately, tired by the long search of the previous night. Dreams had come to him. Images danced in his slumbering mind, images that he was unable to push away, unable to look away from – images from his past.

"_Father, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to disobey you." The boy backed away from the menacing figure before him, backed away until he was pressed up against the wall. "Please, don't…"_

"_You did not mean to disobey me?" the older mortal sneered. "You always mean to, child. You and your sister both. You have been a thorn in my side since the day you were born, and as each day passes, that thorn is pressed deeper and deeper. I…Are you shaking your head at me?"_

_The boy swallowed nervously, chewing nervously on his lower lip. "I just…Do you really despise me as much as I think you do?"_

"_Even more so."_

"_But I am your son!" the child cried. "Father, how can you hate your own son? It isn't right, it-_

"_Hold your tongue, Thalion!" the man spat. _

"_You cannot hate your own son!" The boy's screams bounced off the walls, and came back to hit him. "You cannot hate me, you cannot! You-_

_He was silenced by a harsh blow to the face that sent him sprawling onto the floor. He tried to get back onto his feet, but his father kicked him with a booted foot. Blood pooled in his mouth. It spilled back into his throat as he tried to protest against the vicious attack, and the salty taste of it made him gag. He felt as though he was going to be sick. But as more blows and kicks rained down upon his thin body, darkness began to fall, and he was spared. _

Thalion sat up in bed with a jerk, his breathing heavy and laboured. The sheets had twisted themselves around his body, and his hands shook as he struggled to untangle them. Dreams of his time with his father always affected him thusly, regardless of how many times he had seen them – asleep or awake. He blinked furiously as beads of sweat fell into his eyes, obscuring and stinging his vision.

"Why do you haunt me still, after so many years?" the young man whispered to the empty room. "_You _are a thorn in _my_ side, Father. You have been since the day I escaped you. Except, I did not escape you at all, did I? Not really. You are with me every minute of every hour of every day. You always will be."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ten minutes had passed since Seregeth had left the cottage to go into the nearby town. His reminder of what had happened to Aduial after her attempted escape was still fresh in Legolas' mind; it did not seem able to leave him alone. The young Prince was sat cross-legged at the side of the stream, his thoughts whirling. Every so often he would make to get to his feet, but then he would sit down again quickly – he could not get rid of the images of the horse's red welts; and would remember exactly what would be done to him should he be caught.

"Seregeth said he would be gone for thirty minutes," Legolas murmured. "Ten have passed already, so that leaves me twenty. Surely that is enough time? It has to be. I am swift when I run, and although I do not know where to go, I can at least get away from here."

The Elfling uncrossed his legs and prepared to stand, but over in the stables, Aduial whickered. It was as though she was warning him against trying to leave. Cringing, he crossed his legs once more, and rested his head in his hands. He gazed through his fingers, staring at nothing. His mind had been made up. He would have attempted to escape, he was sure of it.

"Why am I still here?" Legolas wondered aloud. "I want to go; I want to be free more than anything. I am scared to stay, I am scared to go. But which frightens me more? I don't know. I don't understand."

Exhaling deeply, he tangled his hands in his own hair, and pulled hard. So much was telling him, as it flashed into his mind, to go – Seregeth's icy eyes, the welts that Aduial bore, the dead rabbit, the painful hunger pangs in his stomach, the clothes that hung off his thin frame, the throbbing of his nose from where he had been struck not so long ago. Legolas looked at his own reflection in the stream, staring at the dried blood on his face. He lowered his eyes to his fingers – they also were stained crimson.

"Seregeth did this to you!" the Prince hissed at himself. "The man who did this to you is going to be back in fifteen minutes, and instead of taking the chance to try and escape, you are just sitting here. Why are you waiting?"

No. He would not wait any longer. He would leave right now, before Seregeth came home. His mind made up, Legolas jumped to his feet, the adrenalin starting to pump through his body, heart pounding at the thought that his imprisonment was finally going to end. But then, as he made to jump across the stream, words and images from the previous week flew into his mind.

"_You trust me with one of your books? Are you sure?"_

"_I was going to give it to you anyway."_

"_Thank you, Ada. I will look after it, I promise."_

"_I do not doubt that."_

"Oh no," Legolas breathed.

Without hesitating even to tell himself not to waste time, the Elfling had spun around and was sprinting back to the cottage. He wrenched the door open with surprising force and ran across the main room, nearly tripping over the bucket of water filled for the chore he was meant to do, as he went. Righting himself, he stumbled into his own room, and fell to his knees at the mattress. His hands shook as he reached under the pillow for the book.

"Come on, come on," he muttered. "Quickly…"

There, he had it. Grabbing the book, he leapt to his feet and dashed back into the main room like an arrow. His heart was thudding almost painfully against his chest. As he hurtled around the table, a smile appeared on his face – he was going to be free from… No. No, it couldn't possibly be… Legolas slammed himself against the wall by the door, and stared in mounting horror as his captor came striding through the trees.

"No," he whispered. Tears stung at his eyes, and he did not bother to brush them away as they fell. "No, this cannot be happening. He cannot be coming back…"

But he was. Seregeth was coming closer and closer. Legolas could see the fury on his face, the sparks flying from his eyes. He leaned against the wall, and his body seemed to shrink as though in defeat. His chance to escape was gone - it had been ripped so suddenly from him that it actually hurt. Exhaling shakily, he pushed himself away from the wall and retraced his steps back into his own room. They felt strangely heavy; it seemed a struggle to make his feet move.

'_It is over,' _Legolas thought dully. _'I will not be lucky enough to be given a second chance.'_

Thirty seconds later, the young Prince had hidden his book under the pillow once more, and was on his knees in the main room, scrubbing silently at the floor with a damp cloth. His eyes were no longer tear-filled. His hands had stopped shaking. He was calm, and ready for Seregeth to come back into the cottage. And the mortal did – a mere ten seconds later.

"Damn him!"

Without even sparing his captive a glance, Seregeth grabbed a chair from underneath the table, and threw it against the wall. It broke, and splinters of wood flew everywhere. Legolas raised both arms, covering his head to protect himself. But fragments still rained down upon his body, and he winced as a larger piece embedded itself in his wrist. The man did not appear to notice though, for he stalked to the wall and slammed a fist against it.

"That lying, cheating…" Seregeth hissed, and pushed a hand through his dark hair. As he did, he caught sight of Legolas watching him. "What are you staring at, boy?"

"I-

"I suppose you think this is something to laugh about!" the man shouted, advancing on the child with a raised fist. "You must find this terribly amusing indeed. I will teach you to laugh at me!"

"I don't even know what has happened," Legolas cried, backing away. "I have not laughed at you, I promise. Why would I? I do not see anything to laugh about. Please…"

Seregeth glared at the Elfling for a moment, before throwing himself into one of the remaining chairs. "If there is one thing I dislike, it is being lied to. If I am told I will be given something on a certain day, I expect to receive it on that very same day. Is that an unfair expectation?"

"I don't think so," Legolas answered quietly.

"No, it is not. So when I was told that I would have to wait another _month_, I was far from happy," Seregeth spat.

"Of course."

The man shook his head angrily, and slammed the flat of his hand on the tabletop. "That lying cheat will pay for this – after I have received my prize, of course. But he will pay for doing this, for making me wait."

"I…I don't understand," Legolas said tentatively.

"Before you came here, arrangements were made for me to buy a girl," Seregeth explained shortly. "Older than I usually go for – sixteen, she is, perhaps seventeen. I thought I would try her out, and see if it went well. I was supposed to collect her today, but I got conned."

"A girl? Someone else here?"

"Do not get excited. I have to wait for another few weeks," Seregeth replied. "And besides, how do you know that you will still be here then? I might tire of you."

"But even if you did, you would not set me free," Legolas said quietly.

The man looked down at his captive in silence, but then he smiled briefly. "I see you did not get any ideas whilst I was gone, then. No ideas to try and escape. That is good. I wondered whether you would."

"No. I didn't."

"Very well, stop your work. I will give you fifteen minutes to go and watch the puppies," Seregeth said. "I always keep my word, Legolas. If you please me, I will reward you. And you have pleased me today."

The Elfling dropped the damp cloth back into the bucket of water, and got to his feet. As though in a trance, he walked towards the door. It had happened so quickly that it did not seem real – Seregeth announcing that he would be going into town and then leaving the cottage; himself making up his mind to escape; and finally, Seregeth returning earlier than anticipated. If Legolas closed his eyes, maybe when he opened them he would be alone, and the chance to free himself would still exist.

He did not even bother trying.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Queen Laerwen was alone. She was sat on the edge of her only child's bed, staring unseeingly at his scattered toys and books as she turned one of his tunics over and over in her hands. It smelt like him – sweet, leafy, akin to a summer's breeze floating through the trees. If she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could imagine that Legolas was there with her, talking as though it was going out of fashion, and laughing in the childish way that pained his mother's heart every time she remembered it.

'_If you were here now, what would you be doing?' _Laerwen wondered. _'Would you and I be in the gardens looking at the birds nest that you found last week? Would you be pestering your father to help you with your archery? Would you be creeping into the kitchens and stealing food? I do not know. But I know you would be happy, safe-_

"Excuse me…"

"Thranduil?" Laerwen's eyes snapped open, and it was not her husband that they fell upon. "Thalion, forgive me. I thought that maybe…"

"It is I who should be asking forgiveness, my Lady. I was just passing, and I heard noises from in here. I hope I did not disturb you," the man answered.

"Of course not," Laerwen sighed. "I was only thinking, remembering."

Thalion took a few steps further into the room and looked around, taking in with a sad smile everything that suggested a child had once lived there – the toys, small clothes, drawings done by inexperienced hands. "Was this…" He fell silent for a moment, and then started again. "Is this Legolas' room?"

"Yes. I wonder if perhaps being here is hurting me further, but I cannot stay away," the Queen answered quietly.

"I understand that. And I can imagine him here. I do not know him well, but I can still see him playing in this room," Thalion said with a soft smile. "I hope it will not be long before he is safely back."

"As do we all. But I am not giving myself false hope," Laerwen murmured.

The man nodded slowly, chewing on his lower lip. "Yes. My Lady, I…may I speak openly to you of something which has been playing on my mind for a few days now?"

"You may. I have a fair idea of what it is," the Elven-woman replied. She smiled knowingly. "You wish to discuss my husband. Is that not so?"

"It is. My Lady, I-

"Please, the need for formalities has disappeared. It is Laerwen."

"Very well…Laerwen. It surely cannot have escaped your notice that the King and I are…how might I put this…" Thalion laughed humourlessly, and shook his head. "We are not friends. I, to put it bluntly, do not want to _be_ friends with him, and I am sure that he feels very much the same way about me. And I am perfectly happy with that. I understand it. What I do not understand, however, is why he is so…so…"

"Hostile? Cold? Sarcastic? Filled with animosity towards no-one else but you?" Laerwen nodded to show that she understood. "Of course. I rather thought that you would approach me sooner."

"You did?"

"Yes. Sit down, Thalion." The Queen was silent for a moment as the man obeyed. He chose to sit at the desk rather than on the bed. "Very well. I do not ask you to excuse my husband's behaviour towards you. But I do ask that you try and understand it a little better."

"I will try."

Laerwen hesitated, but then she sighed deeply and started to speak, her voice soft. "When Thranduil was growing up, his wish was to become a healer, not a warrior. Yes, that comes as a surprise to you. Well, it was what he wanted so he learnt only basic fighting skills, concentrating instead on the art of healing."

"He does not strike me as the healing sort," Thalion said slowly.

"Maybe not. It was a few years before the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and to mortal eyes he would have appeared to be only…fifteen years, it would be. We were both mere children." Laerwen paused, and a smile made itself known as she stood and began walking slowly up and down the room. Her face held the expression of one who is remembering a time long gone. "He was travelling out of Mirkwood with his mother when they were attacked. By men."

Thalion laughed at the words, and shook his head in derision. "And so he hates me because of _that_?"

"His mother was killed by the men," Laerwen said softly.

"I…I am sorry," Thalion began. "I did not-

"Had help from Greenwood not arrived, I believe that the men would have killed Thranduil also," the Queen continued. "His father and brother turned up, and brought him back to the forest to be healed."

"His brother? I thought he was an only child," the mortal said in surprise.

"No, no. He had an elder brother – Vehiron – and so he was not Oropher's original heir," Laerwen answered. "After his mother's death, do you know what Thranduil's reaction was? He blamed himself. Because he had chosen healing over fighting, he thought it was his fault that the Queen had… He nearly faded. Do you know what it is when an Elf fades?"

"Yes, I know," Thalion nodded.

"I nearly lost him. But we were able to bring him back from darkness. He was happier in himself, and it seemed as though he would be able to move on with his life." Laerwen turned away from the man, and her eyes fluttered shut as though in pain. "Only a few months later, Vehiron sailed. He left for Valinor. He left without telling anyone, and without saying goodbye. Thranduil was devastated – first his mother, then his elder brother. And he blamed himself again. It was his belief that he would have lost neither had he learnt how to fight."

Thalion rested his head in one hand, and gazed at the Elven-queen's turned back. "That must have been a heavy burden to shoulder," he said quietly.

"He nearly succumbed to grief again, and Oropher came close to sending him to Valinor. But he came back for a second time." There was touch of pride in Laerwen's voice as she spoke. "He stopped studying healing, and as soon as he was well enough, he started training with some of the best veteran fighters. Within only a few months he was a warrior, he had been accepted into Greenwood's army. And he was happier than he had been for what seemed to us a whole age."

"It sounds as though he deserved some happiness," Thalion said grudgingly.

"Do you know that his father was killed in the Last Alliance?" Laerwen asked.

"That I know."

"It was another tragedy for Thranduil. But it was the first tragedy that he did not blame himself for." The Queen turned back, and looked at Thalion with eyes that begged him to understand. "He did not blame himself because he knew that if he did, the consequences could be dangerous. But not only that. For the first time, there were others present who he could find fault in – the High King Gil-galad, Lord Elrond of Imladris, the other more experienced healers who had tried to save Oropher, even his father himself. And that, the ability to direct blame away from himself and to others, more than likely saved his life during that war."

"Charming. But it is not a good quality," Thalion said sharply. "Surely he could have taught himself to not blame anyone at all."

"Maybe. But I would ask that you do not judge him if you cannot identify with him," Laerwen answered, a similar bite in her usually gentle voice.

The man sighed, and shook his head slightly. "My Lady, I mean no offence, but this does not give me any answers."

"Of course it does. The first person he should blame for our loss is Amarth. And he did, for a time," Laerwen said. "But Amarth is not here. We are no closer to finding him than we were days ago. When Thranduil realised that, he channelled the blame towards you, because you are the closest he can get to Amarth. Do you understand that?"

"Yes. But that does not mean I think it fair," Thalion said.

"Maybe not. And perhaps it will be hard for you to do so, but try not to find fault in my husband for this," Laerwen pleaded softly. "It is something that, unconsciously, he has to do until he finds evidence to suggest that the guilty can be named as innocent."

"Aye, I have seen something of that," Thalion replied grimly.

"Just try and understand."

The man stood up, and bowed to the Queen. Although a smile was on his face, his green eyes were frosty. "My Lady, I am grateful to you for the help that you have given me. I take my leave."

Without another word, Thalion left.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Right, I made a bit of a mistake with this chapter, in that this was meant to be chapter seven – I had originally planned to have seven and eight together, to make one big chapter, because the next one picks up about four weeks on, and I didn't want it to be too spread out. I hope you understood that, because reading over it, it sounds very confusing!**

**So yeah, the next chapter will not be the day after or two days after or anything like that – it'll be four weeks after Legolas was taken to Seregeth. That's not because I'm rushing it, but because I've got to get the story and the characters to a certain point, and they're not going to get there if I keep the story set in only the first week. **

**It'll make sense soon, so don't worry if you didn't understand any of that!**

**See you soon, **

**Misto**

**x-x**


	9. Chapter 9

Time is a strange thing. It is a wheel in constant motion. It never stops moving, yet it is always slowing or quickening; it often turns at the very opposite speed to which one wants and needs. Fate has it so that if haste is required, haste is not received. If a drawn out period of time is wanted, perhaps to enjoy something to its full extent, that same period of time will shorten considerably. It was during his stay with Seregeth that Legolas found this out.

He had been a prisoner for five weeks now, and every day that passed seemed to be an hour longer than the last. Night took longer to fall; and day only a matter of minutes to appear. The former was the time he most looked forward to. It meant that he could escape into the confines of his own small room, where he was able to sit and do any number of things without being scrutinised – cry, sleep, hope, pray, dream. The latter he had come to despise, for it was when the sun was in the sky that he was worked, punished, humiliated.

Legolas had always been a small child, but now he was so thin that his clothes hung off his body, and when he ran his hands over his stomach, he could feel his ribs. Seregeth did not starve him, but nor was he generous when it came to giving out food. At mealtimes the Elfling was allowed only minute portions, and if he was caught taking food during the day...dark bruises on his arms and back were a testament to the consequences.

As Amarth had said – it seemed a year ago – Seregeth no longer made his captive do chores. Occasionally he would force work upon the boy if he thought it particularly torturous, but it did not happen often. The last time had been the previous week – he had caught another rabbit in a trap, and it had been Legolas' job to make sure it was dead, and then skin and debone it. His hands had been shaking so much that he had sliced the tip of his finger, and was unable to continue.

The last few days had been spent in silence. Legolas would sit in the main room from sunrise to sundown, unable to talk to move too much without being hurt. Seregeth would sit at the table and carve wooden ornaments, pausing to get himself some food or wine, or else just to sneer at his prisoner, who he knew was too afraid to retaliate. There was no sense to the monotonous routine; nothing would be gained from it. But the man enjoyed it. He relished having the power that he was so addicted to.

Today was the same as the past two days. Legolas was sitting on the hard floor, staring unseeingly at nothing at all. He could hear rain falling outside, wind whistling against the walls of the cottage. The weather matched his mood – dark, miserable. He had been sat in the same cross-legged position for two hours, and his body felt stiff and painful. But for once, he found himself unable to care.

'_I care about nothing,' _he thought dully. _'This has become my life now. There isn't anything I can do to change it. I know that. I have accepted it. And I don't care anymore.'_

Over at the table, Seregeth pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He glanced over at Legolas and said 'stay' in a low voice, before walking out of the cottage and into the rain. The Elfling did not even raise his eyes. He appeared not to have noticed the man's disappearance, for he did not take the chance to stretch his legs or arms and get some feeling back into them.

'_What are my parents doing?' _he wondered. _'Have they given up searching for me? Nana would cry for a long time. Maybe she will be so sad that she will have to go to Valinor. Ada would not cry. Or maybe he would. Maybe he only cries when he is alone, as I do. I-_

"Legolas…"

The Prince raised his eyes, but kept his head bowed to the ground. "Yes?" he asked, in barely more than a whisper.

"I have something for you," Seregeth said, walking back into the cottage and kicking the door shut behind him. "Maybe this will cheer you up. I have noticed that you have been quite morose recently."

'_Why do you care?' _Legolas thought. He did not dare say it aloud.

The man took a few steps forwards so that he was standing before the boy, and brought his hands out from behind his back – in them he held one of the puppies. "Here."

Legolas stared up at the young dog wriggling to get free, but he made no move to reach up and take it. "For me?" he whispered.

"Of course. I did say on your second day here that if your behaviour pleased me, I would let you choose a puppy for yourself," Seregeth replied. "Surely you did not forget that?"

"No."

"Well, take it," the man said. He smiled briefly as Legolas reached up hesitantly to obey. "It was only right that you have this one. You and he have gotten on well since the day he was born, and…What is it?"

The little boy bit down on his lower lip, and shook his head slightly. "You said if my behaviour pleased you. But you haven't been pleased with me that often." He glanced at the bruises on his wrists and arms, the red stripes on his shoulders. "I have angered you a lot since I arrived here."

"You have. And that is because at times you can behave very badly," Seregeth said softly, pushing the puppy into Legolas' hands. "But at other times you redeem yourself. Many of the children that I kept before you were much worse, and so they received harsher punishments, and were not given treats such as this. You should take comfort in that."

The Elfling did not. He held the puppy close to his chest, and nodded once. "Thank you."

Seregeth opened his mouth to reply, but he was silenced by a sudden sharp knocking on the door. He froze, but his eyes flicked towards the rainy window as he tried to catch a glimpse of the visitor. Legolas immediately sat up a little straighter, his body tense as the realisation dawned that maybe, just maybe, somebody had come to rescue him, and take him home to his parents. That was something his captor, however, was not about to risk.

"Get into your room," he snarled.

Legolas jumped to his feet, quick to obey. His first instinct as he ran into his own small room was to cry out at the sharp pain in his body, but he bit down on his lip, telling himself to keep quiet. He had to, if he wanted to hear what was happening outside. As soon as he was alone, he put his puppy down on the mattress, and went back to push his ear against the door. He could hear Seregeth's voice, but there were two others – a man and a woman. From the snatches of conversation he caught, his captor was surprised, and the other two apologetic and angry, respectively.

"What are you doing here?"

"…thought I'd save you the trouble."

"Get your hands off!"

"You told me it would be next week."

"I have tired of her."

Silence fell. Legolas pressed his ear closer to the door, struggling to hear any sounds from outside. The voices had stopped, but what was that? Footsteps. Coming in his direction. He threw himself backwards so that he was sitting on the mattress, a picture of innocence. He did it not a moment too soon, for a second later Seregeth had slammed his way into the room.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he growled.

"No," Legolas answered quickly. "I wasn't, I-

"Good. Make sure it stays that way."

Seregeth left once more, banging the door shut behind him. The Elfling exhaled deeply and stared hard at the wall, as if that would suddenly become clear and allow him to see what his captor was doing with the visitors. But then a wet sensation on his hand made him look up sharply. He laughed. It was the puppy, wagging its short tail hopefully as its dark eyes begged for attention.

"Hello," Legolas said with a smile. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to ignore you so."

The small dog's tail wagged a little bit faster as his new owner picked him up and cuddled him close. His black and white coat was slightly damp from the rain that was falling outside, and the warmth of the cottage was a pleasant change for him – it was a far cry from the chilly stable that he had shared with his parents and siblings.

"I have to give you a name," Legolas murmured. He pulled his book out from under the pillow, and started flicking through it with his spare hand, stopping for a few seconds when he came across an illustrated page to look at the picture of the man described, and his name.

"Hmm…Beren. He fell in love with Lúthien. No, you don't look like a Beren. Turin…Elros…Tuor…" The Prince sighed, and flipped over a few pages. He found himself looking into a pair of cruel black eyes, and he winced as he read a few words about this man. "Ulfang the Black. Easterling…turned against the Sons of Fëanor. He sounds – and looks – horrible. I will not name you after _him_."

The puppy made a soft whimpering sound, and his tail flapped a few times as though in agreement. Legolas sighed deeply. These sorts of things were not meant for one person alone. The naming of a new animal was something that took place with people that he knew and loved, people who he could discuss different names and meanings with – his mother or father, his tutor, Alondir, a friend. Friend. The child tilted his head to the side, and looked down at the dog. Friend…he liked it.

"I know that it is a childish sort of name," he murmured aloud. "Bu I don't think that matters. After all, I only have one friend, and that is you. Friend… Mellon. Yes, I like that. That will be your name. Do you like it?"

Whether the small dog was impressed or not with the chosen name, Legolas did not find out. The door opened once more and Seregeth reappeared – a little more quietly this time – and gestured with a flick of his hand for his prisoner to come out. The boy was on his feet immediately, curious to know what had happened. He followed the man, his puppy still clutched close to his chest.

Standing by the table was a girl who appeared to be in the late years of mortal adolescence. She wore an overlarge grey tunic which hung down past her knees, and yet she was neither tall nor short – around a head shorter than Seregeth, Legolas estimated. The rain had made her shoulder-length sandy hair limp and straggly, and it hung without life at the sides of her face, nearly, but not quite, hiding her eyes. They were narrow, green, and set in an oval face that was streaked with dirt. Her head she held high, and her jaw was set in determination. Legolas' Elven eyesight, however, could see without difficulty that her shoulders were shaking. He felt a rush of pity for her, and offered a smile. She merely glared at him.

"This is the girl that I told you of a few weeks back," Seregeth explained softly. "Her name is Criltha."

"I can speak for myself," Criltha growled. Her voice was low and gravelly, as if years of shouting had tired it.

"She reminds me somewhat of you," the man continued to Legolas. "When you first arrived here, your spirit was fiery and your temper hot. We soon changed that, though, did we not? I am sure we can do the very same with her. What do you think? Do you agree?"

Legolas didn't know what to say. He shrugged helplessly, and replied: "I…I don't know."

"Of course we can. Now, would you like to show her to your room?" Seregeth's hard expression made clear that he was ordering, not requesting. "She will be sharing it with you for the length of time she is here."

"I can find my own way," Criltha snapped.

As the girl pushed past him, Legolas turned to his captor and said quickly: "I'm sorry, I-

"No matter," Seregeth cut in. "Go to her. It will do you good to get to know her, seeing as how you will be sharing a room for a while. Go on."

The Elfling went back to his room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He put his puppy on the floor, and bit down on his lower lip as his eyes found Criltha. "I…um, I don't want to sound rude, but I…you're on my bed."

"Does it have your name written on it anywhere?" the girl challenged, without turning to face him.

"No. But I have been sleeping there for five weeks now," Legolas answered apologetically. "And my book is on it. Just there."

Criltha reached out a hand, and carelessly hit the book away. "It is not here any longer."

"Don't do that!"

"It sounds to me as if Seregeth has not rid you of your temper at all. Never mind. And anyway, _child_, who are you to tell me what to do and what not to do?" Criltha asked bitterly. "You should respect your elders."

"As should you," Legolas replied, his voice cool.

"What?"

The Elfling shook his head, vaguely irritated by the mortal's apparent ignorance. "Never mind. Please, all I want is for you to move from my bed. There is another one just over there by the wall. It is no different to mine."

"Then, why do you want this one so desperately?"

"Because it is mine, and I-

Criltha got up suddenly, and whirled around to face the boy. Her green eyes flashed furiously at him. "Stop your complaining, spoilt little brat. I will move. But just you make sure that your horrible dog doesn't come near me. If it does, I will kick it hard."

Legolas sat down quietly on his own mattress, and pulled Mellon protectively into his lap, gently stroking the soft fur. The dog was appropriately named, it seemed. If the young Prince had hoped there was a chance of him befriending this new prisoner of Seregeth's, he was very much mistaken.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

In Mirkwood, things had taken a turn for the worse. Three weeks after Legolas' disappearance, a large number of Orcs had entered the forest, and Commander Alondir had been left with no choice but to call off the search for the Prince, so that all of his soldiers would be free to fight. He had expected Thranduil to dispute this, but no such thing had happened. The King went with his army to battle, and many said that even in the Last Alliance they had not seen him fight with such chilling ferocity. He had escaped the battle without a single scratch – the loss of his only child was a powerful weapon – and Thalion, who had also fought the Orcs, was still having trouble believing that the Elven ruler really had once wanted to be a healer.

The relationship between the man and Elf had also changed – although, not for the better. It was clear to all that Thranduil still held Thalion responsible for Legolas' disappearance; and even though he had been asked by both Alondir and Laerwen to try and conceal his dislike, he found himself unable to. As each day passed, more and more accusing and sarcastic comments directed towards the mortal would leave his lips; and the feelings of animosity and blame would only intensify. He _had_ tried to be civil to Thalion. But then an image of his son would fly into his mind, and his efforts would end immediately.

Thalion was finding it just as difficult to be civil. He sympathised with all that had happened during the Elven-king's childhood, but that sympathy did not make the cold glares and taunts any easier to bear. He was innocent. He knew he was innocent of every accusation that was thrown at him. Though, he did not defend himself. He was not going to waste his time doing so, when he would only be scorned.

When he was alone, life did not improve any. For a strange reason that he could not fathom, his dreams were only of his past, and they were becoming more and more regular. The pattern was always the same. Upon falling asleep, images of his father, his sister, himself, would flash into his mind, and he would be forced to watch another chapter of the story of his life that he was trying so desperately to forget.

"_Don't, Surwen," Thalion whispered to his sister. "Don't cry, please don't. It will only anger him further."_

"_Do you think that I care? There is nothing he can do to hurt me any more," the girl choked. "He has done everything there is to do. He should be proud of himself. He probably already is."_

"_But at least try and keep him calm. Father-_

"_Father? Father?" Surwen laughed, it sounded almost manic. "You insist on calling him that after all these years of torture! He is not our father, Thal. Not any more. And he never will be again."_

"_But he _is _our father," Thalion snapped back. _

"_Oh yes? How many fathers do this to their children?" Surwen snarled, dragging up her sleeve to reveal angry bruises. "How many fathers beat their children into unconsciousness? How many fathers force their children to sleep outside in the rain? Tell me, Thalion! Because I do not know of any expect ours. He is the only one…the only father to do that to his own children…to us."_

_Thalion wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders as she began to sob noisily. "It is unfair, I know it is."_

"_Why do we live this way?" Surwen breathed. "Why do we stand for it?"_

"_Because we are prisoners," Thalion answered hollowly. _

"_But if we could escape…"_

"_We have tried that before. We always fail. He always catches us."_

_Surwen caught her brother's arm, and held onto it tightly. "Then we stop him from doing that. We stop him from _watching_ us."_

"_But how…"_

"_You know how to use a knife," Surwen said quietly. _

_Thalion drew in a sharp breath, and gazed at his sister in shock. "You mean…" He trailed off as she closed her eyes and tears fell from under her lashes. He rested his head back against the wall, and exhaled deeply. "I will get us out of here, Surwen."_

When he had finally freed himself from the dream and untangled himself from the damp sheets that covered his sweaty body, Thalion left his rooms and set off down the dimly lit corridor. He had taken to doing this – going for night time walks to clear his head and calm himself. Normally the solitude worked wonders for him, but tonight, he was not alone.

'_Oh no,' _he thought bitterly. _'Not now, not now.'_

Thranduil had just come around the corner at the end of the corridor. His hair was loose upon his shoulders, and it looked as though he had thrown on some clothes at random in a matter of seconds. His leggings were creased; he was walking barefoot; and his loose tunic was only tied to halfway up his chest, revealing toned muscles that only the finest warriors could possibly have after years of swinging a sword. Upon seeing Thalion he stiffened, but did not stop walking. Instead, he continued until he was no more than a foot from the mortal.

"What a pleasure, seeing you here," he said quietly. "What might you be doing at such a late hour?"

"I could ask you the very same question."

"Am I not allowed to wander around my own halls?"

"You may do whatever you please in your palace. But whilst I am staying here, I also may do whatever I please – within reason," Thalion said, his voice sharp. "I do not have to disclose to you my reasons for taking a midnight stroll."

"Of course not. And to be perfectly honest, I do not care what you are doing. Feel free to continue," Thranduil replied.

Thalion held out an arm to stop the Elf from moving past him. "When I walk at night, it is usually because I have been haunted by dreams. What dreams haunted your sleep, I wonder."

"For your information, I was _not_ asleep," Thranduil said coldly. "My wife thought I was, and she left our rooms."

"And you are following her," Thalion nodded in understanding. "Do I sense a lack of trust between you both?"

"I am following her to ensure that she is well," the Elf snarled. He glared at the man for a moment, and then shook his head slightly. The anger had left his face, and was replaced by an expression of concern. "Thalion, you look tired."

The mortal arched a cynical eyebrow as he folded his arms across his chest. "I do?"

"Yes. Is something keeping you up at night? A guilty conscience, perhaps?" Thranduil suddenly spat. "Because guilt does that, does it not? It eats away at you all the time, never ceasing. You cannot eat, you cannot sleep, you cannot even breathe without that conscience enforcing guilt upon you."

"Do you speak from personal experience?" Thalion challenged.

Thranduil drew himself up, and was silent as he regarded the man through steely eyes. It looked for a moment as though he was going to strike the other; but then he shook his head, and laughed softly. "If I do, do you really believe I would tell you of it? Of course not. Now, if there is nothing else, I would like to continue with what I-

"Meet me on the training field in fifteen minutes."

"I…what?"

"You heard."

The Elven-king had. As he swept past the man, he nodded once. "Fifteen minutes, then."

"I look forward to it," Thalion sneered.

Thranduil said nothing, but continued walking down the corridor. His heart sped in anticipation. He looked forward to it also. He knew what was going to happen. One did not arrange to meet an enemy on the training field at gone midnight unless some sort of confrontation was going to take place. He dropped his hand to his waist, instinctively feeling for a blade. No, he had left his weapons back in his and Laerwen's private rooms. Laerwen…he still had to find her. And he had a good idea of where she might be.

A few minutes later, Thranduil was pushing open the door to his only son's room. He leaned against the wall, watching silently as his wife, who was kneeling on the floor, gathered scattered toys and books in her arms. She was whispering incoherent words to herself; and every so often she would raise a trembling hand to her face, and make a flicking gesture with it – brushing away her tears.

"What are you doing?" Thranduil asked eventually, taking a few steps into the room.

"Tidying."

"I can see that. I meant, why are you doing it?"

Laerwen put a stuffed animal back on the bed, and shook her head slightly. "Legolas is coming home. He would be upset if his room was untidy. It would not be a pleasant thing for him to return to."

"Legolas is not coming home," Thranduil said slowly.

"He is. I saw him."

"You saw… No, you did not. You could not have."

"He came to me." Laerwen's voice had fallen to a whisper. "He came to me and told me that he is coming home."

Thranduil exhaled as he went forwards to kneel at his wife's side. "He did not come to you, meleth-nin. I was awake. I did not see him. You had a dream, nothing more."

"Why do you say that?" the Queen asked quietly.

"Because it is the truth. I do not want you to start giving yourself false hope, and I do not want to see you hurt any more than you already have been," Thranduil answered. "Please. It is late – past midnight. Come back to bed, and we can talk about this in the morning."

"No. I want to tidy my son's room," Laerwen said coldly.

"Why? _Our _son is not here to see it," the King snapped.

The Queen stood up with an armful of toys, and carried them to a wooden chest at the foot of Legolas' bed. She did not glance at her husband. "If you are not going to help me, you should leave. I can do this much more quickly on my own."

"I am _trying_ to help you," Thranduil said through gritted teeth. "But you will not accept my help."

Laerwen suddenly turned to the other Elf, and held up a small tunic. "Does this look clean to you? Or should I have it washed?"

The Elven-king passed a hand almost wearily over his eyes, and shook his head slowly. "I do not know. I do not care. Wash it, do not wash it – does it make any difference? Legolas is _not_ coming home. We are no closer to finding him than we were four weeks ago."

"So, do something about it," Laerwen said in a low voice. "Do something, _anything_."

"I have sent one patrol out to-

"One patrol? One patrol!" The Elven-queen laughed humourlessly, and her violet coloured eyes flashed. "You may as well call them back, because what good are they? Do you really believe that one patrol is going to find our son?"

"I cannot spare any more, not now that Orcs have started to attack again. And the spiders also are growing restless. You know this," Thranduil answered. "I can only do so much in our search for Legolas. And as each day passes, I seem able to do less and less."

"You are not trying anymore," Laerwen said quietly. "It is as though you do not even care."

Thranduil whirled around, and stared at his wife in anger and shock. "How can you say that? How can you _think_ it? There is nothing I want more than to have Legolas back here with us. Believe me, I would give anything just to know that he is safe, and I-

"There is a grass stain," Laerwen said, inspecting her son's tunic. "It will have to be washed, I think."

The Elven-king was silent for a moment, but then he walked to the door, and laughed – it was without humour. "Very well, you wash it, Laerwen. You carry on tidying a room for a child that we may never see again. Do whatever you want, because _this_ is something that I care not for."

Without another word, Thranduil left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Laerwen stared for a few seconds, but then she gave a light shrug of her shoulders, and dropped Legolas' tunic onto the bed. She started to hum to herself. It was a song that she had always sung to her child – not that it would really mean anything until he was back and able to share it with her. But that made no difference to her, as she continued to tidy.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas stared out through the window from where he lay on his mattress. It was a dark and cloudy night. For the first time since arriving at Seregeth's cottage, he was unable to see the reassuring twinkle of stars. He wondered if perhaps that was some sort of a sign. Stars had, for the last month, been a symbol of hope for him. Could their disappearance mean that hope was fading?

Criltha lay on her own mattress, with her back turned to the Elfling. She had hardly looked at him since their encounter earlier than afternoon, and had spoken even less. She was not asleep. Maybe she was pretending to be, but Legolas knew that she was as wide awake as he. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at the girl's back, willing her to turn around.

"Excuse me," he began quietly. "I know that you're not asleep."

"That does not give you reason to disturb me," Criltha hissed back.

"I know. I just…you have said hardly anything since this afternoon, and I think that is strange. When I got here, I felt so lonely. I wanted a friend, someone to talk to," Legolas answered. "I know it is a shock – being taken from your home and forced into an awful new life. But I think that having a friend might make it easier."

"I have never had friends. I do not need any now," Criltha said softly.

"How about someone to talk to, someone who will listen to what you want to say?" Legolas pressed. "I can be that someone. I know I'm only a child, but surely that has to be better than nothing."

The girl sat up, and shook her head as though amused. "Go to sleep. I do not need you. This is not a new life for me, Legolas. It is another day of the same old story. The only change is that I am in a different place with different people. Believe me when I say that I am used to this."

"But what-

"Were you never taught that it is rude to press for answers?" Criltha smiled as she lay down once more, facing away from the Elfling. "Go to sleep."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You are late."

Thranduil regarded the man in silence for a few seconds, but then he shrugged lightly. "Forgive me. I hope that I did not keep you waiting for too long, because that would, of course, be-

"I do not want to hear your sarcastic comments," Thalion cut in sharply. "I did not arrange to meet you so that we could exchange words."

"Evidently not," Thranduil replied, glancing at the sword held tightly in the mortal's hand.

Thalion swung the weapon, and a smile appeared on his face. "But surely you did not expect anything other than this."

"Of course not. From the moment that I first laid eyes on you, I knew that there would be some form of confrontation between us," the Elf answered. "And to be honest, I am surprised that it took this long to transpire. I thought this would have happened weeks ago."

"As did I, so let us delay no further. Come, draw your weapon." Thalion paused, and shot the King a sideways glance. "Unless you want some sort of protection. A few guards, maybe? Just to watch your back?"

"I think not," Thranduil said derisively. "This is a battle between only you and I."

Confrontation _had_ been inevitable. They were warriors – warriors with personalities, ideas and morals that could be no more different even if the two fought to make them so. It had only been a matter of time before this took place; and although neither Thranduil nor Thalion would admit it out loud, they both wondered that perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps finally going against each other in such a way would help build a form of respect.

"The victor is the first to draw blood?" Thalion asked quietly.

Thranduil shrugged as he pulled his own sword out. It was smaller than the man's, and slimmer, but no less deadly. "Your terms," he answered carelessly.

Green eyes met silver, and the two stared at each other for a good few seconds before springing into action, like cats going for a kill. Thalion was the first to move. He lunged forwards with his sword outstretched, but Thranduil caught the blade on his own hilt, and pushed it aside. He did it effortlessly, a cool smile on his lips which suggested that for him, this was nothing more than play.

Thalion gripped his sword with both hands and swung it in wide arcs before him as he pressed forwards. It whistled in the air, glinting in the light from the moon above them. Thranduil jumped backwards, parrying. Still, his movements were calm, almost lazy. But then he saw an opening, and as Thalion brought his sword around in another sweep, the Elf threw himself down and forwards, raising his own blade to push the other past his head. He hooked a foot behind the man's heel, and pulled hard.

"Curse you," Thalion growled, as he crashed backwards onto the ground.

"You too," Thranduil replied evenly. "Do you need any help getting up, or-

Without any warning the mortal leapt back onto his feet, and swung a crushing backhand towards his opponent. The King caught the blow and thrust it aside once more, hiding a smile as Thalion hissed in annoyance. The two backed away from each other and started to circle. Neither of them dropped their gazes. It was not just a battle of blades.

Thranduil levelled his weapon before him and held it still for a moment, before cutting it downwards into another thrust. Thalion back-pedalled, counter-attacked, started to parry. Both man and Elf were determined to win this fight, no matter how insignificant it appeared to be. The former's face was covered with a thin sheet of sweat, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead. The latter had tied his hair back off his face, but a few blonde strands had escaped to hang in front of his eyes – it was the only sign that he had taken part in combat.

Thranduil pushed forwards with his attack, steely eyes fixed onto his opponent's green ones. Despite the man's hard parries, he was driving him back, he was slowly overcoming him. An owl hooted nearby, and the sudden noise cut into the King's concentration. He faltered. Thalion seized the opportunity and leapt forwards. His blade whipped through the air, and he slashed it across the Elf's upper arm.

Silence fell, broken only by the breathing of the two fighters. Thranduil could feel blood streaming down his arm, but he ignored it. The painful stinging of his newly acquired wound he pushed away. It could wait. He was still for a moment, but then he threw his sword onto the ground at Thalion's feet. The mortal's face was impassive, without even a hint of triumph written on it.

"You win," Thranduil said softly.

"I do."

As he had done four weeks ago, Thalion held out his hand. The Elf flicked his eyes downwards, and looked at it in silence. Seconds passed. It did not seem as though he would make any attempt to take it. The man also seemed to realise this. With a hiss of annoyance he pulled his hand back, but Thranduil suddenly reached out, and caught the other's wrist.

"It is not an Elven custom," he said slowly. "Shaking hands, I mean. It is a very…human thing to do."

"Please, do not lower yourself on my account," Thalion replied bitterly. "I would not want you to-

"If you would let me finish," Thranduil cut in. He paused, and levelled the man with his sharp gaze. "Shaking hands is a very human thing to do. _However_…maybe I can lower myself just this once."

A look of surprise flickered on Thalion's face as the Elf lowered his hand, and shook his own once. "I…"

"You fight well," Thranduil said quietly.

"As do you."

The Elven-king inclined his head briefly, and pulled his hand away. He did not do it sharply, as perhaps he would have done so before, but instead it was a soft movement. He held the man's eyes with his own for a few more seconds, before bending down to retrieve his fallen sword. It was wet with dew from the grass, and he wiped it on his tunic as he turned away.

"Wait."

"You have a habit of doing that," Thranduil said, stopping. He did not turn.

"What good this will do me, I do not know. But I just want to say again that I am not guilty of what you think I am," Thalion replied in a low voice. "I do not know where Amarth has taken Legolas. I did not know that he was going to take him at all. I am innocent."

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder, and nodded once. "I know."

"You…you know? But when did…how…?"

"I have known for many days – weeks, actually – that you are not guilty." The King paused, and shook his head slowly. "That is not quite true. I only knew deep down inside of myself; and the need to blame someone for Legolas' disappearance was so strong that I was not willing to drag that knowledge to the surface. I had to keep it buried otherwise I would stop believing that you were guilty. Maybe you do not understand that."

Thalion stared at the Elf through eyes widened with shock. "You could not have just told me this? Before tonight, I thought that you were one of the most arrogant and spiteful people I have ever come across. You treated me like dirt. You made me _feel_ like dirt."

"And, what do you think of me now?" Thranduil asked, hiding a smile.

"Let me leave it a day or so before answering, so that I might be able to get to know you – the real you – a little bit better," Thalion answered. "Then we shall see."

"Of course. Forgive me, but I must go. If Laerwen has come to her senses she will be wondering where I am." The serene expression on the Elf's face flickered bitterly. A second passed, and then it was gone. He nodded towards his bleeding arm, and smiled briefly. "My wife aside, I should clean this up. It is not as deep as it appears, but still… Goodnight, Thalion."

The man shook his head in wonder, and stared as Thranduil walked away across the training field. He had not expected this. He had expected a degree of respect to come from the confrontation, but most definitely not _this._ Still, he had never really understood humans. The chances of him ever understanding Elves was slim indeed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Sorry this is so late. I've had so much on – assignments from college; I've fallen out majorly with someone who I thought was a friend; I had to take my rabbit, Piper, to the vets; I've had my driving lessons to work on; plus, I got some really good news last night that I've been waiting for –I'll let you all know what it is next chapter, because I don't want to jinx it by telling too many people before it actually happens!**

**Anyway, I'll see you all in the next week or so. Responses to reviews are, as always, on my bio page.**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Legolas was woken by Mellon licking the side of his face. After nudging the pup away and drying himself, he had changed into his tunic and leggings and gone out into the main room of the cottage. Criltha was still asleep, but Seregeth was sat at the table, chewing on pieces of fruit. When his eyes fell upon the Elfling, he nodded once at him.

"Good, you are awake. Criltha?"

"I think she is still sleeping," Legolas answered slowly. "You will not wake her, will you? It took a long time for her to fall asleep last night."

"Pity," Seregeth said, without a trace of any in his voice. "I need her up soon."

The door opened a second after he had finished speaking, and Criltha entered the room. She still wore the large grey tunic of the day before. It was badly creased, a sign of a restless night. Without a word to either of the other two, she sat at the table. She reached out and took an apple from the bowl of fruit, but did not eat it. Instead she rolled it around absently on the palm of her hand.

"I trust that you slept well," Seregeth said.

"I have had better nights," the girl answered carelessly.

As silence fell, Legolas glanced down at Mellon. The animal's nose was twitching, sniffing the air for food. "Seregeth," the Elfling began hesitantly. "Now that he is not feeding off his mother, what will he eat?"

On the table was a plate of thin meat, and the man held it out. "Give him this, and then come and sit down."

"What is it?" Legolas asked, as he knelt on the floor and held a piece of the food to Mellon.

"Chicken."

"Oh."

Chicken, however, was not something that appealed to Mellon. He sniffed at it for a few times; and his tongue flicked out to brush against the skin, but was quick to disappear again. His tail – which always seemed to be moving – fell still, and he sat down looking thoroughly miserable. Legolas looked into the doleful brown eyes, and gave a small frown of concern.

"I don't think he likes it."

"He will. Just give him time to get used to it," Seregeth answered. "Come and sit at the table."

"Yes, in a minute. I just want to make sure that he eats."

"Did you not hear what I said? The dog _will_ eat soon enough. Do not rush him. Come and sit at the-

"He has turned away from the chicken," Legolas said in dismay. "I will have to find something else for him to eat, otherwise he will go hungry, and-

The man was up off his chair in an instant. Lunging forwards, he caught his captive by the front of the tunic, and all but threw him into a seat. As his bruised back slammed against wood, Legolas gasped and instinctively tried to move away. Criltha could only watch in stunned silence as Seregeth caught the boy's chin between thumb and forefinger, and slapped him twice.

"Listen to what I say," he snarled. "I do not like repeating myself. Of all people, I should not have to tell _you_ this. Should I?"

Shaken, Legolas flicked his eyes towards Criltha, and met her green ones. He thought he saw a trace of pity, but if he did, it was quick to vanish. He looked back at his captor standing tall above him, and shook his head. "No. No, I'm sorry."

Seregeth's lips curled into a sneer as he pulled his hand away, and sat down in his own chair. "Of course you are. But that matters not, nor do I care. I have more important things on my mind."

"Maybe you…" Legolas paused, and glanced sideways at the man. From the corner of his eye he could see a red mark on his own cheek. He ignored it, and said instead: "May I say something?"

"Go on."

"Maybe you took Mellon off his mother's milk too early."

"Who?"

Legolas blushed as two pairs of eyes flicked to stare at him. "Mellon: my dog. It is his name."

It was Criltha, not Seregeth, who laughed suddenly. "What a stupid thing to call an animal," she said derisively. "Melon… Honestly, do you want the poor thing to be laughed at?"

"That isn't his name," Legolas said quietly.

"Do you have other animals called Apple and Orange?" the girl continued. She smiled cruelly, and shook her head. "Melon. What a foolish-

"Don't call him that!" the Elfling suddenly snapped. "_You _are the stupid one. You do not even know what the name means, so you cannot laugh at it. You-

"Quite," Seregeth cut in warningly.

Legolas turned away, and looked at the man. His expression was almost pleading. "His name isn't 'Melon'. It is 'Mellon'. That is an Elvish word," he said in a low voice.

"They sound the same to me," Criltha put in.

"They sound nothing alike," Seregeth said sharply. "This discussion will end now. I am tiring of it."

Silence fell. Criltha looked away and bit moodily into her apple, but Legolas' eyes were fixed on the mortal sitting beside him. It sounded very much as though the man had just defended him from the girl's taunts about his dog. Could it be so? Wondering, he lowered his gaze to the tabletop, and played absentmindedly with the sleeve of his tunic.

"We will be going to the town this morning," Seregeth announced a short while later.

Legolas looked up in surprise. "We?"

"I have to sell the remaining puppies, and you two will come with me. You, I think, could be trusted to stay here." Seregeth paused, and glanced at Criltha. "However, I fear that _you_ would get ideas of escape, and I cannot let that happen. So we will all go."

"You mentioned this on my second day here," Legolas said slowly. "You told me that if you cannot sell all of the puppies, you will have to…drown them."

"Yes. But hopefully it will not come to that," Seregeth answered. "Now, eat what you are going to. We leave in thirty minutes."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thranduil was alone. He had risen even before the sun; and after unwrapping the bandage around his arm to examine the wound acquired last night, and dressing, he had left his private rooms – without a word to Laerwen – to closet himself in his study. Not that he had work which needed to be done, but because he was not overly keen to see his wife this morning – something that he had never before felt, in all their years of marriage.

The events of the previous night were still fresh in his mind, and no matter how he tried, he could not find a way to justify what Laerwen had done. She was hurting. But no more than he. Yet it was only she who found it necessary to fight that pain with foolish notions that in the long run would no nothing but hurt her further.

'_Maybe I am being unjust,' _the Elven-king thought without conviction. _'Maybe I should have-_

The door to his study opened, and he looked up sharply. Deep down he had expected it to be Laerwen, and so it was. But he said nothing, just watching her frostily. Her fair face was pale, and shadows were starting to make themselves known under her violet eyes. It seemed as though she had found even less sleep than her husband the previous night.

"I heard you rise this morning," she began tentatively. "I spoke to you, but you did not reply."

"What is it that you want, Laerwen?" Thranduil asked, his voice sharp.

"I…I just…am concerned. For you," the Queen answered. She paused, and took a few steps forward. "What happened to your arm? I saw the bandage. I wondered…"

"Why are you concerned for _me_?"

Laerwen was silent and still for a moment, but then she stepped around the oak desk, and stood behind her husband's chair. Her hands fell down to rest on his shoulders. "Why should I _not_ be concerned, meleth-nin? You have grown cold towards me, you do not speak. And I-

"What I meant was, why are you concerned for me when any concern should be directed towards yourself?" Thranduil amended. "I am not the one for whom worry should be felt."

"I do not understand that." Laerwen's voice trembled slightly, but her hands were calm as they started to braid a long lock of her husband's hair. "I am not quite sure what you are trying to say…"

Thranduil was still, silent. He could feel his wife's fingers moving deftly though his hair, but it gave him no comfort. She had always done it, but in happier times, in the life they had left behind. And that made a strange feeling of anger rise in his chest. He shook his head, and felt the lock of hair fall free. That was better. There were some things that were best left alone, because if not, they would only conjure memories of a lost life.

"You cannot even bear to have me touch you," Laerwen whispered.

"Why are you doing this?" Thranduil rested his head in his hands, and closed his eyes tightly. "Why do you act as though everything is normal? Because it is not. Or have you forgotten last night, and what you did?"

"It was no crime."

"I said not so."

Laerwen walked back around the desk, and sat opposite her husband. She tried to meet his gaze, but he did not raise his eyes. "Thranduil, I have not forgotten what I did last night. I lay awake for hours thinking about it. And I know, maybe even more than you do, just how foolish it was of me to believe that Legolas was coming home to us. I know that what I saw was but a dream. I know now, and I knew then."

"If that is so, why did you torment yourself further by going to his room and pretending that he would be returned to us?" Thranduil asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "We are both in so much pain as it is. Why bring more upon ourselves?"

"I had to go to his room. I had to convince myself that Legolas was coming back, because the joy that that falsehood brought to me was so great that it shut out the pain," Laerwen said shakily. "But when I let reality come crashing down, the suffering was intensified. It hurt so much. But it was worth it. For a few minutes, I could believe that my baby was…coming home."

As his wife started to sob, Thranduil looked away. He searched deep inside of himself for his connection to his child, and held onto it tightly. It was faint, growing weaker by the day. But he found strength and a degree of comfort in it. What he would do when it…if it faded, he did not know. He wondered often if Legolas could feel it. More than likely not – it was harder for children to feel the internal bond than it was for adults. The knowledge that the Elfling was, in all likelihood, alone, cut deeply.

"Forgive me," Laerwen suddenly breathed. "I do not mean to hurt you. I do not mean for any of this to happen."

Thranduil looked back at his wife, and nodded once. "I know."

"You have work to do, and I am keeping you from it," the Queen said abruptly. She stood, and went to stand by the door. Her fingers curled around the handle, but she looked back over her shoulder to say: "I am going to see Líndariel. She lost a brother in the Orc attacks. We have much in common."

As he was left alone once more, Thranduil exhaled deeply. He liked Líndariel. He always had. But he was no longer happy with his wife being around her too often. There was talk that she would sail to Valinor soon to escape the pain conceived by her grief. If Laerwen should pick up on the idea… The Mirkwood ruler shuddered. It did not bear thinking about. He could not lose his wife as well as his son.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The town that Seregeth had spoken of was nothing more than a village. Despite its size, it was full of people who had come to either sell or trade their wares – animals, food, weaponry, books and art. It was difficult for one to move comfortably; and it was often that small fights broke out amongst men who had pushed too roughly, or stepped on another's foot whilst trying to manoeuvre around the market.

Legolas watched it all from underneath the hood of his cloak – which he had been forced to wear to hide his race – with great interest. He fixed his eyes on passers-by and gazed at them intensely, waiting for the moment when he would see a familiar face – though that was, of course, unlikely, and he knew that. But still, it was comforting to have hope.

He stood with Seregeth and Criltha at the side of the market, though the two mortals did not speak to him. Both were staring unseeingly into the crowd, as though they had seen this sort of event many times before, and were now tired of it. But the Elfling did not mind their silence. A large wooden crate was at his feet, so at least he was able to play with the puppies in it. Two had already been sold – one for coins, the other for venison, which was apparently hard to come by in those parts. Two remained.

"It will rain soon," Seregeth murmured after a while, glancing up at the dark clouds overhead. "Maybe in an hour or so."

"And then we will go?" Legolas asked.

"Yes."

"So that means that the puppies have to be sold quickly," the Prince said quietly. He looked around. People had started to spot the clouds, and were already walking away. "But Seregeth, many are leaving now. What if there is no-one left who wants to buy them?"

The man glanced down, and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I have told you already what will happen. Now, I am going to find a friend of mine who may be interested. I am trusting you two to stay here. Even if you do not, I will find you easily. This is a small place."

Criltha did not reply, so Legolas nodded and said for them both: "We will stay."

"If an opportunity comes to sell a dog, be sure to get the right price for it. I do not want to be robbed." With a final glance at his captives, but without another word to either, Seregeth turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

There was silence for a minute or so as Criltha continued to stare at nothing at all, and Legolas stuck his fingers into the crate. He smiled as the puppies fought over who would lick them, their tails wagging furiously. But he looked up as his sharp hearing caught the sound of a long and deep sigh that spoke clearly of misery. It came from Criltha, and she seemed unaware that she was being watched.

"I have noticed something," Legolas said softly, after another minute had passed. "I think that you should know if it."

"Oh yes?" the girl asked. She turned to look at the Elfling, and raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

"Well, I cannot find a reason for you being kept by Seregeth. I have been looking for one, but…" Legolas shook his head. "He keeps prisoners for the power that it gives him, and as far as I know, he does the same thing every time he gets a new child."

"What would that be?" Criltha repeated. She sounded bored, but her expression was one of vague interest.

"When I arrived, I was made to do normal chores around the cottage and with the animals. Amarth – the man who brought me here – said it was so that if any townspeople saw me, they would not be suspicious," Legolas explained. "But Seregeth hasn't made you do a single chore for him. Not that I want him to, I just think it is strange. All you seem to be doing is living with him. That does not make sense to me."

Criltha shook her head, and laughed. It was a hollow sound, without humour. "I see where you are coming from. But Legolas, you have much to learn." She paused, and her lips curled upwards in a strange sneer. "I would not expect you to understand."

"But I want to know," the Elfling replied. "It confused me, that is all. Amarth told me that Seregeth keeps younger children, and you are…sixteen years of age?"

"Seventeen."

"Exactly, and I-

"Can you think of no reason why Seregeth might want me?"

"No."

Criltha smiled, and leaned down close to Legolas' ear. Her voice was full of strange laughter as she whispered: "He wants me for my body, little boy. He wants me to fulfil the needs that cannot be fulfilled elsewhere."

The Elfling was silent, but as he realised what the girl meant, a faint blush crept over his cheeks. He looked down at the ground, and kicked softly at it. "Oh. I…I see, I…" He bit on his lower lip.

"Of course you do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't…" Legolas trailed off as a young mortal boy appeared before them, and stared into the crate. "Hello."

"Hello. Nice dogs."

"Yes, I like them. Do you want one?" As the mortal looked up, Legolas pulled his cloak tighter around himself, further covering his ears and hair. "I have to sell them, otherwise they will be drowned. I don't want that."

"No. And yes, I very much want one," the boy replied. "My father will not allow me to, though."

"That's a shame," Legolas murmured sympathetically.

"Yes. Father wants a couple of dogs as it is, so he would gladly pay for them. But money stands in the way. It always does." The boy smiled, and turned away. "Well, goodbye. I hope you manage to sell the pups."

"So do I," the Elfling said quietly.

Criltha laughed nearby. "You will not sell them. You may as well give up trying to do so now. You are only wasting your time. But never mind, I care not. I am going to go and have a look around."

"Seregeth told us not to-

But the girl had already walked away. Legolas stared after her for a few seconds, but then he tore his gaze away with a shake of his head. Let Criltha do as she pleased. If she wanted to get into trouble, that was her choice, the child reflected as he looked around the town. The boy with no money was standing nearby, examining some chickens and talking morosely to the one trying to sell them.

'_How unfortunate that he wants both puppies but cannot have them,' _Legolas thought. He was still for a moment, but then a smile spread across his face as an idea started to make itself known. Maybe there _was _a way for the boy to have the dogs.

Meanwhile, Seregeth had found his friend – a tall, dark haired man called Taras – and the two stood together at the other side of the market, talking quietly. From their position, they had a clear view of Legolas and Criltha. Upon seeing the girl move, Seregeth had hissed in annoyance. But he did not worry too much. Through the dispersing crowds, he could watch her closely enough.

"I am not as blind as many others in this town, nor am I as stupid," Taras was saying. "That boy…he is no mortal."

"You have keen eyes," Seregeth said with a smile.

Taras shook his head, and let out a low whistle. "An Elf. I knew you were good at getting what you want, but I did not realise _just _how good. How did you get him? Where from?"

"I was owed a favour by Amarth. Perhaps you know him. He lives in that town about a league or so away," the elder man answered.

"The one in which your children live?"

Blue eyes narrowed to mere slits. "The very one. But as I said, he owed me a favour. So, he went to Mirkwood and came back with the boy."

"I see. And I imagine that the lives of those Elves have been turned upside down by the loss," Taras said. "I do not know Amarth, but I admire him for achieving such a thing. Surely it cannot be easy. Incidentally, what name does the child go by?"

"Why? How many Elves do you know?"

"None. I am curious."

"Ah. He is Legolas."

Taras' head suddenly shot up, and he stared at the other man through narrowed eyes. "Legolas? I know that name. Why, I do not know, but it definitely rings a bell in my mind. Legolas… Where do I know…?"

"Well?"

"No. I cannot put my finger on it," Taras murmured.

Seregeth nodded slowly. "Hmm. When he told me his name upon his arrival at my cottage, a strange sense of recognition flared inside of me. But I pushed it aside, and thought nothing more of it."

"It more than likely means nothing," Taras shrugged. "But still…I would very much like to remember where I know the name from."

The older man nodded his agreement. "As would I. But no matter, it is trivial. As for the girl, did you see her?"

"Aye. Not as young as you normally go for," Taras commented.

"There are some needs that children cannot fulfil," Seregeth said with a grin. "At least, not for me. So that is the purpose of her. Yes, she is older. But if she makes trouble, I will let her go."

"Not before introducing her to me, I hope," Taras said. A strange glint was in his eyes, a hungry and lustful one. "After all, why waste her?"

Seregeth started to nod once more, but as soon as his gaze fell upon Legolas, he stopped. "The brat!" he snarled. "He will pay for this…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas lifted the two puppies from the crate, and pulled them into his arms. Together, they were heavier than he had thought. Holding them tightly, he made his way through a group of elderly women to the boy with no money. With some amount of difficulty, he reached up and tapped the mortal's shoulder, saying: "Excuse me…"

The human turned, and smiled. "Hello. Again."

"I have to be quick, because I don't know how long my…well, I don't know how much time I have left alone," Legolas said in a low voice. "But I thought it was sad that you couldn't have the puppies, even though you were desperate to. Take them."

"Eh?"

"I want you to have them."

The mortal's eyes widened as the dogs were pushed into his arms. "Are you fooling me? I don't have money to give as payment, or-

"It doesn't matter. The only payment I want is this: hide yourself until you see me leave here with a man and girl. If the man sees you with the puppies, he will take them back and drown them," Legolas cut in swiftly. "Just do as I say. Please."

"I…alright, then. Thank you for this, I-

But the Elfling had already gone. He ran back to the now empty wooden crate, and sat on top of it. He looked around quickly. Good, Seregeth was still nowhere to be seen. Exhaling in relief, Legolas reached down to the ground, and gathered a handful of dust. He looked at it for a moment, hesitating to do what he knew he had to, before shaking himself mentally. Raising his hand, he threw the dust into his eyes. They immediately started to stream.

He looked skywards, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. _'Ai, that hurts!' _he thought.

Not even a minute later, Seregeth was back, with Criltha following just behind. His face was impassive, but his eyes glinted as he gestured towards the empty crate and said: "Ah, you managed to sell-

"I am so sorry," Legolas breathed. The tears conceived by the dust continued to stream, and he buried his wet face in his hands. "I really am sorry, I didn't mean to… They have gone. Both of them have gone."

"Well, that is good," Seregeth answered. "I did want to sell-

"No, you don't understand!" Legolas choked. "I let the puppies out so that I could play with them, and they…they ran away. I didn't mean to let that happen, I…I couldn't stop them, though."

"They escaped?" the man asked sharply.

"Yes. And I don't expect you not to be angry with me, because you should be; and I will not ask you not to punish me, because I know that I deserve it," Legolas whispered. "I failed in what you wanted me to do."

Seregeth was silent for a moment, but then he shrugged lightly. "I am not angry. Disappointed that the dogs got away, but not angry. It was not your fault. You did not mean for this to happen."

"You…you are not angry?" Legolas repeated, stunned.

"No. Now come, let us go home before it starts to rain."

Without pausing to further question his captor's strange behaviour, the Elfling stood up quickly, and turned away from the two mortals. He immediately started to rub at his streaming eyes. The dust stung them, but at least they had made his story believable. Behind him, however, Seregeth was shaking his head in what appeared to be amusement, with a smile painted on his face.

"You just lost two dogs," Criltha said. "Why is that reason for happiness?"

"It is not. But never mind."

Seregeth bent down to pick up the crate, and laughed softly to himself. Legolas had just told a lie. He had, in fact, lied to such an extent that he believed he would escape from this little stunt. But the mortal would not let that happen. He had watched from the side of the market, he had seen it all – the boy with no money receiving the animals for not a single coin, the dust to make tears appear. That angered him. But he would enjoy finding a punishment to suit the crime.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

Back in Mirkwood, Laerwen was having trouble focusing her attention on Líndariel. She both sympathised and empathised with her friend, but despite that, she could not stop her mind from straying. For the first time in many days, her thoughts were not devoted to Legolas. Instead, something that the other Elf had said about the Grey Havens had transported her to a time long gone…

**Begin Flashback**

_It was the middle of the Second Age. A contingent of Elves from Greenwood the Great had travelled to the newly founded refuge of Imladris. Among them were King Oropher and his two sons. His wife was not there. She had been killed by men only a few months earlier, and although the realm was still grieving for her loss, it was on the road to recovery. _

"_She would have liked to see Imladris," Laerwen murmured. _

"_Yes. And I wonder if Prince Vehiron planned his departure around this visit," Alondir said bitterly. "I know that he was keen to come here."_

_The younger Elf looked up, and shook her head slowly. "Has he truly gone? Has he gone to take a ship into the West, and has he really left his family?"_

"_He has. I followed him with a few of the other soldiers when he was reported missing. Upon realising his destination, we tried to reason with him," Alondir said quietly. "But you know as well as I that if an Elf's desire is to sail, there is no changing that."_

"_I know. But how could he leave his family so soon after the Queen's death? They both depend upon him, especially his younger brother," Laerwen pressed. "He did not even say goodbye to them. Alondir, does the King know of this? And Thranduil?"_

"_I told the King as soon as I arrived back here. He has shut himself away. He will not attempt to go after Vehiron; he will not see Thranduil…" The soldier paused, and glanced sideways at the other Elf. "Thranduil has not been told. He does not know."_

"_Valar…"_

_The door opened suddenly, and the two Elves looked up guiltily, as though they had been caught discussing a forbidden subject. A boy of Laerwen's age came in, and his silver eyes flashed as he kicked the door shut behind him. Golden hair lay loose on his shoulders, the braids undone as though he had constantly run his fingers through them. He was trembling with a fear that could not be concealed. _

"_Why will my father not see me? Where has my brother gone? Why will no-one speak to me, only give me strange looks and whisper as I pass?" he questioned in a low voice. "What has happened?"_

"_It is not my place to tell you," Alondir said quietly. _

"_It is Vehiron, I can feel it. Is he well?" Thranduil pressed. "Is he hurt?"_

"_I cannot tell-_

"_I will _not_ be kept in the dark. You _will_ tell me, Alondir. You cannot refuse me if I give you an order," the young Prince snapped, "and that is precisely what I am doing. Tell me. Now. What has happened to my brother?"_

_Laerwen took a step forward, for the soldier had made no move to speak. "Mellon-nin," she whispered. "He has gone. Vehiron is no longer here."_

"_What do you mean by that?" Thranduil asked quietly. "Surely you cannot mean that he has gone to the Grey… No. He would not. Not now, not so soon after Naneth… You do not speak the truth, Laer. You cannot be."_

"_But I am. And I am so sorry," Laerwen breathed. "Your brother is leaving for Valinor."_

_Thranduil gazed at her in silence, too stunned to find any words that could possibly form a coherent sentence. His previously angry eyes had calmed now, and were glittering with unshed tears of disbelief, grief, fear. But then he turned, and left his friends alone. The sharp movement made the silver drops in his eyes shimmer like prisms in the sunlight. One fell._

**End Flashback**

"Forgive me," Líndariel was saying. "How can I expect you to listen to and comfort me? I may have lost a brother, but you have lost a son."

Laerwen pulled herself back from the past, and shook her head slowly. "We both are suffering for similar reasons. Believe me when I say that I understand your pain. I understand it more than anyone can possibly know."

"What do you…?"

The Queen reached forwards, and held a hand over her friend's heart. "You are hurting inside. You think that your soul is being shattered. Some days you want to die. I know this, Líndariel, because I…I feel it also. Every minute of every day. I feel it."

"It will be the death of you," the other Elf murmured. "Grief steals lives. That you know too, do you not?"

"I do."

"And you know that there is only one thing that can save you."

Laerwen turned away, and said nothing. There were two things that could save her, and the first was the safe return of her son. But there was no hope of that happening, and she knew that. She had accepted it long ago. Her only option if she did not wish to succumb to her grief was to take a ship into the West, where death would not be able to find her. Her only choice, was Valinor.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

**Ok, I am so sorry for not updating sooner. But there is a very good reason for it, and I think that I can be forgiven. Do you remember last week I mentioned that I was waiting for some good news to come through? Well. It did come through. I got a phone call from my agent, because she got me a part in 'Casualty'. For any Orlando Bloom fans, you'll know that he was in it before he became famous! Anyway, I was away this week for a few days filming that, and then I got delayed another day because all the trains coming into Devon and Cornwall were cancelled due to snow. So, my reasons for not updating are fairly good – I wasn't here to do so!**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. I've replied to all signed reviews via this new thingy that has been introduced, and I'll be doing so from now on, to save me writing the replies on my bio page, and to save you guys having to go and look at them. **

**The next chapter will be up next Sunday,**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	11. Chapter 11

A storm was coming. Wind howled like a hundred wolves outside the cottage, and rain beat unrelenting on the roof, the walls, the windows. Despite the warm fire blazing in front of him, Legolas shivered. He hated storms. He had never been alone in one before, for Thranduil and Laerwen had always been there to comfort him, to give him the protection and security that no-one else could.

To focus his attention on something other than memories, the Elfling looked towards his captor. Seregeth had not spoken for a while; and although that was nothing to worry over, the fact that he had been relatively pleasant all day – especially since returning from the town – was. Legolas did not want to admit it even silently, but he was nervous. Something was going to happen, he could feel it. And he was not wrong.

After another few minutes spent in silence, the man looked up with a strange smile. "May I have your dog?" he asked softly.

"I…Why?" Legolas glanced over at Mellon, who was chasing his tail, and bit on his lower lip. "He is playing."

"That I can see. All the same, I would like you to bring him to me," Seregeth pressed. There was a hint of warning in his voice.

The Elfling was still for a moment, but then he moved to obey the instruction. As he lifted Mellon from the floor and passed him to the mortal, he noticed that his hands were trembling. Fighting to control them, he sent a quick and silent prayer to the Valar, asking them to protect his small dog. He had known all along that Seregeth's niceness had been too strange to be real. He was going to be punished for something. But what, he did not know. Surely the man did not know about-

"Do you think that I am blind?" Seregeth said softly. "Or perhaps stupid? Let me tell you that I am neither. I know how the minds of children work. So, when I left you alone this morning in the town, I did not stop watching you. I had an idea of what you might do. And I was not wrong. Was I?"

"I don't know what you speak of," Legolas said quietly.

"But of course you do. Do not lie to me, boy. I despise being lied to, _as_ you well know. You also know that lies have severe consequences," Seregeth replied. "You gave those dogs away for nothing. Your tears did not fool me. Did you honestly think they would?"

"I thought that I was doing the right thing," Legolas murmured. "I was saving them from being drowned, I…"

"No. You did the wrong thing," Seregeth answered in a low voice.

The Elfling watched through fearful eyes as his captor placed Mellon back onto the floor. His heart sped, pounding painfully against his chest. "What are you going to do?" he whispered. "Please, don't hurt him. Don't..."

Seregeth looked down, and held Legolas' eyes with his own. Without breaking the contact, he raised a booted foot. His intentions were clear, but so anxious was the Elf not to lose the battle in which they were currently engaged, he did not see anything until it was too late. There was silence, but then the mortal let his foot fall, and he sent it crashing down onto one of Mellon's paws.

"No!" Legolas screamed, as the sound of breaking bones reached his ears. His own cries were mingled with the terrible howls of the dog, who was quivering in shock on the floor. "Seregeth, no!"

"This is your fault," the man snarled. "You deserve to be punished."

For the first time in weeks, Legolas started to cry before his captor. "I know I do. Punish me in whichever way you want to, but not like this. Please don't hurt him any more," he sobbed. "Hurt me instead."

"How touching," Seregeth sneered. "But since you lost me two animals at the market, I think it only fair that I mete out the same punishment again to your little dog, so that we are even."

As the man raised his foot once more to carry out the final bit of cruelty, Legolas threw himself forwards. He grabbed his captor's heel with both hands, and pushed as hard as his small body was able to. Caught off balance, Seregeth went crashing to the floor, but he did not go alone. As he fell, he tangled his hand in his prisoner's hair, and pulled the child down with him. During this chaos, Criltha had crept out and lifted the whimpering puppy into her arms. She cast Seregeth a look of disgust, before taking Mellon back into her room.

Fighting for breath, Legolas tried to hit the mortal's hands away. "Let go of me!" he choked.

"I am going to make you regret that," Seregeth spat. He raised himself so that he was on his knees, and slammed the Elfling down onto the ground. Flashing silver eyes locked onto his own as he shouted: "In fact, I will do more than that. I will make you regret the day that you were ever born!"

"And if I already regret that?" Legolas hissed. "What then will you do?"

"I can do worse things than you imagine," Seregeth snarled. "I can make your life hell; I can make you wish for death; I can snap your strong spirit into two. Do not underestimate me, boy. Do not make that mistake. You think you have seen it all? You should be so lucky."

Legolas glared at the man through eyes bright with fury, and his chest heaved as the breath that had been knocked from him upon falling started to return. But then, without pausing to think about what he was doing, or what the consequences for his actions would be, he snapped his head up and slammed it into his captor's face. It hurt him, but that did not matter. Seregeth reeled back in shock and anger, leaving him free to scramble to his feet and run.

Though, he did not get far. He had taken only a few steps when a hand wrapped around his ankle, and brought him to the ground again. He was close to the fire, very close. He tried to crawl away, but Seregeth grabbed him and pulled him even closer to it. The roaring flames so near to his ears drowned out the storm, and he could feel the heat against his skin. He started to panic.

"No, don't do this!" he gasped. "Don't…"

"What does it take to cure you of your temper, and your insolence?" Seregeth hissed. "I have tried everything, yet you remain a stubborn and spoilt brat. But not any more. This will stop you, I swear."

A strong hand caught Legolas' hair, and he felt his face being pushed towards the fire. He could not let this happen. For a third time, he had to try and thwart Seregeth. But how? As he struggled against the grip he was held in, his flailing hands hit at a long, thin something sticking out from the coals. A poker. A red hot one. He curled his fingers around it, trying to ignore the heat on his skin; and with a cry of anger and pain, he swung it over his head.

When the orange stick struck against his shoulder, Seregeth was too stunned to either move away or express his pain. The second assault was more agonising though, for it hit the side of his face. This time he did shout out, and he fell back against the table, breathing heavily as he pressed a shaking hand to the red welt on his cheek. He looked up at Legolas and shook his head slowly, struggling to keep disbelief from overwhelming him.

"I told you not to," the Elfling whispered. "I told you not to do it, but you tried to… I stopped you, though."

"Put the poker down," Seregeth said quietly.

Legolas looked down, and blinked as thought surprised to see he still held it. "No. What if you come after me again? This will protect me."

"If you think that I am going to come after you at this moment in time, you are a very foolish little boy. Believe me when I say that all I want to do now is treat my wounds," Seregeth replied.

"You never treat _my_ wounds after you have finished hurting me," Legolas whispered. "Why should I let you treat your own?"

"Just put the poker down…"

The Elfling did not move for a moment, but then he shrugged and uncurled his fingers. The weapon rolled out of them; and as it hit the floor with a dull thud, he smiled humourlessly. "There, I have put it down," he murmured. "I am going to my room now, and you can treat your wounds. But maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you should just leave them alone. Then you might know what it is to be a prisoner."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the door to his office opened, Thranduil did not look up for a few seconds. He thought it might be Laerwen, but the footsteps that were heavy to Elven ears soon told him otherwise. Raising his eyes, he smiled briefly and inclined his head to acknowledge Thalion's presence. The man gestured towards a chair in front of the desk, and the Elf nodded his assent.

"Forgive me for barging in on you in such a manner, although I did knock three times," Thalion said, as he sat down.

"Did you? I did not hear," Thranduil answered. He shrugged, and looked back at his work. Had he really been so caught up in thoughts?

"You look busy, am I keeping you from anything? I know it cannot be easy – ruling Mirkwood whilst coping with such a devastating loss," Thalion said slowly. "Although, the latter was really what I came to speak of."

The Elf looked up, and nodded. "Go on."

"I hope you do not think this presumptuous, but I am curious as to whether you have stopped searching for your son. I ask only because you have not been to look for him in many days. That aside, you only have one patrol out in the forest," Thalion replied. "I think one patrol-

"Is all that can be spared," Thranduil cut in sharply. "Do not think that I like saying it. It is the truth."

The man let out a deep breath, and nodded. "Of course. I know that there are a number of other patrols busy with the Orcs and spiders; and I am not disputing the decision to assign no more soldiers to the search for Legolas. But if I may suggest something else…"

Thranduil was silent for a moment, wondering if he really wanted to be bothered with this. Then he made a gesture with his hands, and shrugged again. "What idea do you have? After all these weeks it will prove to be fruitless, I am sure. But I will hear it all the same."

"Stop looking for your son in Mirkwood, stop covering ground that has already been covered," Thalion replied fervently. "Do you remember what you said to me on the day that I arrived here? About the link between a parent and child?"

"That I remember."

"You told me that you could feel Legolas," the man continued. "Do you still feel him now?"

"I… Yes. Faintly."

Thalion nodded as though in satisfaction. "That means he still lives - but not in Mirkwood. Five weeks have passed. _Five weeks_. Surely he cannot still be here if he has not been found in all that time. So, he has to be outside of the forest."

"I have not the power to search all of Arda."

"You do not have to. But if you send one patrol out of Mirkwood, they can…" Thalion fell silent, and exhaled deeply. "I do not know. They can go to the town where Amarth lives, and-

"No. You told your men to send word back here if they came across Amarth or any sign of my son; and no word has yet reached us," the Elf cut in. "He cannot have got there. If he had, surely we would have heard something."

"Maybe. But what if he _has_ taken Legolas elsewhere?" Thalion pressed.

"Elsewhere? Did you not hear what I said about not having the power to search all of Arda? It is no small place," Thranduil answered. He started to shake his head dismissively, but as the man looked away he paused, and gazed at him. "Unless…_do_ you know something?"

Thalion did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, although they were staring unseeingly. He was dimly aware of the Elf speaking, but the words were not making sense to him. Voices were flooding into his mind, voices from the past. And as he listened to them, he realised that his instincts had been right – they _had _been searching for Legolas in the wrong place.

**Begin Flashback**

"_You are useless, girl!"_

_Thalion turned away and closed his eyes at the abuse of his sister. Although he listened to it, he did not really hear it. His mind was on other things, primarily the long handled knife that was concealed in the sleeve of his shirt. He had woken early that morning, and had crept out to steal it. So far, he had been lucky. His father had not noticed that it was missing. If he did, there would be hell to pay. _

'Or you could just use the knife on him,' _an unknown voice whispered in Thalion's head. _'That would save you from his punishments.'

'But I do not want to kill him,' _the boy thought. _

'You do not have to.'

'But I-

'Just hurt him enough so that you can escape with Surwen. Go to the town. It is only ten minutes from here. Or to be safe, go the next town – thirty minutes hence.'

'I have never killed before. I do not want to be guilty of it.'

'Then you will have to remain guilty of being a prisoner.'

_Thalion snapped his head up as the sharp sound of a hand striking bare flesh reached his ears. His father's blow had sent Surwen to the floor; and as he gazed upon the stream of blood coming from his sister's nose, a red mist of anger floated before his eyes, his heart ached with the temptation to scream his rage and destroy anything he could. His hand snaked up the sleeve of his shirt, and he curled his fingers around the knife's handle. _

"_Stay on the floor," the man was growling, as he pushed his daughter back down. 'It is where you belong.'_

"_Don't touch her!"_

_Thalion leapt forwards so that he was standing between his father and sister. The knife was drawn, and it did not shake in his outstretched hand. He was not afraid, as he had thought he would be. Before him, the older human had fallen silent and taken a few steps back. But now he was shaking his head, laughing derisively. At that, the younger felt the angry feeling inside of him double in intensity. _

"_I will do it," he said in a low voice. _

"_Put the knife down, and stop making a fool of yourself," the man sneered. _

"_No."_

"_Do it. Put the knife down, or I will force it from you."_

"_No."_

"_Damn you, boy!"_

_The man suddenly lunged forwards to wrench the weapon away, but he staggered back only a second later. He looked down at himself, at the knife handle protruding from his chest, and shook his head slowly, disbelievingly. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words fell dead on his lips. A strange filmy mist appeared before his eyes; and as darkness took him, he sank limply to the floor._

"_Is he…" Surwen swallowed nervously as she looked upon her still father. "Is he dead?"_

"_I am not a murderer," Thalion replied shortly. "Wait outside for me."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because if I leave him in this state he _will_ die," the boy said. "I will remove the knife and bandage his wound. And then we will leave. We will escape."_

"_You will save him? If he lives, he will come after us-_

_Thalion shook his head immediately. "No. He knows now what we can do, and he will not want to risk anything like this happening again. He has his pride."_

"_Do not think this will stop him!" Surwen cried angrily. "If he does not succeed in finding us that will be defeat, and he cannot accept that. There will be other children, younger children who cannot fight him. They may not be his own, but he will do to them what he has to you and I. Thal, do not give him that chance. You have saved yourself, you have saved me. Why will you not save his future victims?"_

"_Wait outside," Thalion said quietly. _

_Surwen turned away, and shook her head sadly. "Very well. But think about the children whose fate you are sealing by saving his life. You are condemning them to lives that we have lived, because Seregeth will never stop."_

**End Flashback**

Thalion looked up at the Elven-king through glistening eyes. His voice shook as he said: "I know where Legolas has been taken."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Queen Laerwen was alone, but that was how she preferred to be. The solitude meant that she could think and hope and dream without interruption; it meant that she could cry without abandon for the loss of her only child. Her husband she still loved, despite the hardships they were struggling through, despite the ever present tension and anger between them. But facing him was hard. It made her heart ache with guilt, because she knew that in a week's time, she would no longer be on these shores. She knew that Thranduil would be entirely alone, with no family left to him.

Her head jerked up sharply, as though in surprise. The truth – she _was_ surprised. Ever since Líndariel had revealed that a ship would be waiting at the Grey Havens, Laerwen had thought about it unwaveringly, had envisioned herself upon the ship which would bear her away from the pain that staying in Middle-Earth brought about. But not once had she said or thought that, yes, she _would_ leave.

"This makes it final," she murmured. "I really am going to take the ship into-

She fell silent as the door opened. It was Thranduil. Her heart sank as waves of guilt swept over her, but the expression of joy on her husband's face made her stop and look at him carefully. She did not even consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, there had been a breakthrough in the search for her child. That was a testament to just how little hope she had.

"I have some news," Thranduil said, clearly struggling to keep his voice calm. "It is Legolas."

Laerwen looked up, and delicately arched an eyebrow. "Legolas?" she repeated quietly.

"Yes, I…" The Elven-king looked slightly disappointed at the lack of reaction, but as he sat on the bed next to his wife, he smiled again. "Meleth-nin, Thalion thinks that he knows where Legolas has been taken. He is almost certain that a man he knows of has our son captive. Of course that is not good, but at least it is a lead. It means that we can… Laerwen?"

The Queen laughed softly, _sadly_, and shook her head. "Thalion thinks that he knows? Speculation is nothing. It will get you nowhere."

"But he is almost certain that-

"Almost? Thranduil, don't do this to yourself. Do not build up fresh hope for yourself, because it will soon come crashing down around you," Laerwen said quietly. "Why can you not accept, as I have, that we have lost Legolas?"

"Because I am stronger than that," Thranduil replied coldly. "Until Legolas' body lies before my eyes, never to awake again, will I believe that he is truly gone. For me, he still lives, even if he is dead for you."

As though she had not heard any of this, Laerwen stood, and started to pace slowly up and down the large room. "And I suppose this means that you are leaving soon, to go and find a child who is not there?"

"I have never before heard anything quite so hypocritical," Thranduil said, incredulity creeping into his voice. "Only a few days back, you were tidying Legolas' room because you were sure that he was coming home. You refused to accept anything other than that."

"Things change," Laerwen said shortly. She paused in her pacing to glance down at her husband, but she was quick to start up once more. "Have you come to say goodbye?"

"Not yet. We are leaving in the morning at first light. It should take us a few days to reach this man's home," Thranduil replied. "We could be gone for up to a week. Maybe even longer."

The Queen looked up sharply, and her heart sped against her breast. The ship was leaving in the same amount of time. But she said nothing of her fears. Instead, the only words to leave her lips were: "I see."

"Laerwen, I… I know that life has not been easy for either of us since Legolas went missing," Thranduil said softly. "And I do not think that we have been helping each other at all, especially recently. But if you want to talk – about anything – then please, do not hold your silence. I _want_ to try and help you, I really do."

"What has brought this on?" Laerwen asked in a low voice.

"Something is playing on your mind, I can sense it," Thranduil answered. "It troubles you."

"You do not want to know."

"I do."

"Moreover, I do not want you to know."

Thranduil rose from his place on the bed, and went to his wife. He shook his head slightly, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Laer, if you cannot tell me, who else can you? I want to know. I want to help."

"Many thoughts have been on my mind of late. One especially… Vehiron," Laerwen said slowly, almost dreamily. "Do you remember him?"

The Elven-king stiffened, and his face paled as he replied in a low voice: "Of course I remember him. He was my brother."

"Yes. And I have been wondering…maybe he had the right idea. Sailing to Valinor, I mean. At the time, I disagreed with what he did, but now that I am faced with the same grief…" Laerwen fell silent, and shook her head slowly. "Now, I can empathise with him."

"Don't…" Thranduil turned away sharply and swept a hand through his hair, pulling hard at the golden strands, and feeling a savage satisfaction at the pain. "Do not say that, do not think it. I will not lose another whom I love. I cannot. Coping with Legolas' disappearance is harder than anything I have ever before lived through – even losing my brother. If you sailed, I... Valar, I do not know what would happen."

"You are strong," Laerwen said quietly.

Thranduil turned to face his wife; and although his eyes flashed angrily, there were other emotions that the Queen had not seen for many years in them – pain, confusion, grief, despair. It hurt her heart to see them, but she could find no words of comfort. She remained silent. So did the King for a time, but then he shook his head and went to the door. He did not look at Laerwen, but his final words were heard clearly.

"I am not strong enough for this."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas lay facedown on his mattress, crying silently into his pillow. The outward strength that he had shown before Seregeth had vanished the moment he was in his own room; and although he was not alone, he did not care that Criltha was there to witness his display of weakness and emotion. But she did not even appear to notice him. She was sat on her own mattress, gently bandaging Mellon's injured paw with a strip of cloth from her tunic. No sarcastic comments came from her, no laughter. If anything, her reign of silence was one of pity.

As she tied off the make-shift bandage, she looked up at the little boy's shaking form, and murmured: "I have finished tending to your dog. You can have him back now."

"Keep him," Legolas whispered. "He will only get hurt if he stays with me."

"That is not true," Criltha replied. "And besides, he needs you. Seregeth will not want him. I would not know what to do with him. You at least can care for him."

The Elfling turned his face to look across at the other mattress, but he did not sit up, nor did the tears stop falling. "I can only care for him with love, and that isn't enough to stop his paws from being broken," he said bitterly. "So, I don't want him. I don't want to be guilty of causing pain."

"He is your friend," Criltha said. "He-

Thunder crashed overhead, cutting her off. With a noise of fear, Legolas closed his eyes tightly, and buried his face once more in the pillow. He expected a peal of laughter to ring out from Criltha's direction, but all he could hear was the screaming wind and pelting rain. As the roll of thunder died out, he sat up. The girl was watching him with a sombre expression, and he glared at her.

"Go on, laugh at me," he spat. "I know that you want to."

With a smile, Criltha shook her head. "That is not what I want to do. You think that I am cruel and heartless, and I understand why. I have not been pleasant since my arrival here. But believe me, I am _not_ cruel."

"No, you are not. But you are not a nice person," Legolas replied.

"I…I was the only woman in my family. Mother died giving birth to my younger brother, and without her there to protect me, I was abused in every way possible by my father, my uncle and my two elder brothers," Criltha said quietly. "Can you imagine that? Can you imagine being abused by the ones who are supposed to love and protect you?"

The Elfling was silent as he thought of his own family, but then he shook his head once, and said: "No. I can't."

"Pain was all I knew. It was all my life was, apart from where my younger brother was concerned," Criltha continued. "You remind me of him, both in appearance and personality - although, it has to be said that you are fairer to look on than he. But of course, you are an Elf."

"How old is your brother?" Legolas murmured.

"Nine. The same age as you, I think." Criltha paused, and shook her head. "No. You are younger than that to the eyes. You are seven years old. Or eight."

"I would be seven if I was a human."

"Aside from Mother, my younger brother was the only one I ever loved. Until Thuris came along. He was a few years older than I, and we… well, we fell in love." Despite the nature of the words, there was an angry edge to Criltha's voice. "But it was not real. He rescued me from the abuse of my family, only to sell me to Seregeth. He only wanted me for money."

"I'm sorry," Legolas said quietly. Thunder rolled overhead and he closed his eyes again, trying to shut it out. He did not want to cover his ears – that would be childish. When the noise had faded, he looked back at Criltha and repeated: "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course not. So you see, I thought that I would be starting a new life with a man I loved. But I was very wrong," the girl said bitterly. "When I realised that my life was not going to change, I was so… I was more than furious, and your innocence did not matter to me. All that mattered where you were concerned was that I could be angry, I could vent my rage – and you would not stop me."

"Why are you not angry any more?" Legolas asked.

"I am still _very _angry. But not at you." Criltha nodded towards the child's bruised arms and shoulders, and smiled sadly. "You are a victim. An innocent. I should have realised that before now, and I should have tried to befriend you."

The Elfling looked up, and chewed on his lower lip. A pink flush had crept over his cheeks, and it deepened as he said: "Will you be my friend? I know that I am only young, but-

The door to their room was suddenly kicked open with such force that it slammed against the wall, and bounced off it again. Seregeth strode in, his face a fearful picture of fury; his blue eyes blazing like a wizard's fire. The wound on his cheek was covered by a strange green paste; and Legolas could smell the horrible acrid smell of it as the man stalked towards him. He jumped to his feet and started to back away, but his wrist was immediately caught in a vice-like grip.

"You are coming with me," Seregeth growled, dragging the boy through the cottage. "Did you think that I would let you escape after your little stunt with the poker? Of course not."

"Let go," Legolas whispered. "You're hurting me."

The mortal laughed manically as he yanked open the front door of the house, and pulled his captive through it and into the rain. "I am hurting you? Good, it is what you deserve. Ah, are those tears that I see in your eyes?"

"No…"

"You are not so brave any more, are you?" Seregeth spat. "Well, let us see what you make of this."

Without releasing his grip on the boy's wrist, the human reached down behind the tree stump just before the cottage, and drew out a long chain. One end was driven firmly into the ground, and on the other end was the iron collar of a dog. Thunder sounded like the beating of a drum. Lighting struck a second later. Legolas cried out and tried desperately to escape so that he could run somewhere – _anywhere _– but Seregeth was quick to snap the collar around his neck. With a noise of distress, he fell back against the wet ground.

"Take it off me!" he cried, clawing at the despicable restraint. "Take it off!"

"No. This is your punishment, and you will see it through," Seregeth answered quietly. "Scream as much as you want. Shed as many tears as you can. It will not make daylight come any quicker."

Legolas stopped scrabbling at the collar to look up at his captor in horror. "Daylight?" he breathed. "You are going to make me stay out here all night? But I…the storm…"

"You do not like storms," Seregeth sneered. "They frighten you. They make you cry. They remind you of the comfort that you sought in the arms of your parents when you were too terrified to be alone. I speak the truth. Do I not?"

"Do not make me stay out here," Legolas whispered. "Please don't-

"Do I speak the truth?" Seregeth roared. "Answer me, boy, or so help me I will-

"Yes," the Elfling sobbed, as thunder boomed overhead. "Yes, it is true. I cannot stay out here in the storm, please don't make me."

"Sorry, but you should have thought about the consequences before doing what you did," the man replied in a low voice. The heavy rain had washed away the paste on his cheek, and the red welt stood out vividly. It did look painful.

"I was frightened," Legolas breathed. "It was instinct to try and protect myself. I…was so scared, I…"

Lightning streaked down from the sky and struck some way outside of the copse, but despite the distance, the Elfling still moaned in fear and backed away as far as the chain would allow him to. At any other time, the collar around his neck would have humiliated him. But he was only a child, a child who was afraid. And his fear of the man towering above him, of the storm, overwhelmed any other feelings that he might have.

"Sweet dreams," Seregeth sneered.

"No!"

The mortal turned and walked through the rain back to his cottage, laughing as the sounds of the Elfling's cries reached his ears. Anyone else would have been hurt by the tragic noises, yet he only revelled in them. Still smiling, he shut the door behind him. Criltha was standing at the far end of the room, her face pale and angry as she stared at him. Her green eyes were flashing as much as his own blue ones.

"How could you?" she whispered. "How could you do that?"

"Tell me what is wrong with punishing a badly behaved child," Seregeth replied. "The boy will not be controlled. It takes a lot to get through to him. When you get to know him a little better, you will understand that."

"Maybe he is wilful and headstrong, but that does not excuse you. He is afraid of storms," Criltha said shakily. "Fear is a powerful weapon. And you used _his_ fear against him! You-

"Silence!" Seregeth snapped. "Sit down, and hold your tongue. I do not want to hear any more of this."

The girl was still for a moment, but then she dropped her gaze to the floor in acquiescence. She pulled a chair out from underneath the table; and as she sat, a long sigh escaped from her lips. One hand came up to rest against her forehead, and she was only dimly aware of Seregeth moving to stand behind her. All the same, she knew what was going to happen. She knew only too well.

"Do not look on this as a bad thing," the man was saying. He leaned down close, and murmured against her ear: "After all, you and I have spent little time together since your arrival here. With the boy out of the way, maybe we can enjoy more of each other than we otherwise would."

"Whatever we may do, rest assured that I will _not _enjoy it," Criltha whispered.

Seregeth trailed one hand lazily down the girl's throat, and inhaled the scent of her hair. He smiled hungrily. "But I will," he breathed. "I did not buy you just so that I might look at you."

Thunder crashed outside. Lightning followed soon after. As uncaring and rough hands started to ravage her body, Criltha closed her eyes tightly, silently telling herself to be strong, that the abuse surely could not be any worse than that which she had suffered for so many years. Another clap of thunder rang out. The skies were momentarily illuminated. And underneath the screaming wind and hammering rain, she was sure she could hear the cries of a single child.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thranduil stood alone, shooting arrow after arrow into a heavily abused target that stood some forty feet away. It was late – gone midnight, in fact – and even though he knew that in a few hours he would be starting out on a long journey, he felt no need to sleep, or even just rest. How could he, when his wife had all but admitted that she wanted to sail? Maybe he should be with her to offer comfort, but he could not find it within himself to do so.

He had tired of being strong before others, he no longer wanted to be the one who had to wipe away tears and give reassurances. He was suffering more than he outwardly displayed; and because of that, because he kept it all inside, no-one thought he needed help. But he did. What if he wanted to pour out his fears? What if he wanted someone – just one person – to listen? What if he wanted to drop all pretences of strength and stoicism, and cry for the son that he had lost?

"I am no different," Thranduil hissed, releasing an arrow which sped like lightning, "to anyone else," – as it hit the target, he notched another – "in the whole," – it was loosed – "damn" – it whistled through the air – "realm." The arrow struck.

"But you are the King."

Thranduil hesitated, but then he reached into his quiver and pulled out another arrow. "Alondir. I did not hear you."

"No, that does not surprise me," the veteran warrior replied. "You seem very caught up in what you are doing. Incidentally, what _are_ you doing out here in the pouring rain?"

"Archery."

"Of course."

Thranduil pulled back his arm and gazed down at the arrow for a few seconds, before letting it fly. He did not look to see where on the target it embedded itself. "What do you mean by that?" he asked softly. "You said: 'but you are the King'. So I am, but it should not make a difference to the way I cope with feelings and emotions."

"Maybe not, but you were brought up to follow protocol," Alondir replied. "You were taught to be strong from the moment that…" He closed his eyes as he realised that there was no disguising what he had prevented himself from saying.

"After Vehiron left," Thranduil said in a low voice. He strung his last arrow, and continued: "And if I want to take off my emotional armour? If I want to drop all pretence, am I able to? Can I allow myself to be weak just for a few seconds?"

Alondir did not reply. The blonde Elf let his arrow fly; and this one, unlike all of the others, went straight past the target. The wind had caught it in mid-flight, and tossed it far away from its intended place. Thranduil was still for a moment, but then he dropped his bow to the floor, and snapped open the leather straps around his shoulders. The empty quiver also fell, and he walked away from them in silence. He did not care.

"You _should _let your emotions free," Alondir sighed, as he followed his friend towards a beech tree. "You are the only Elf in the whole realm who has not shed tears since Legolas' disappearance; and although your strength is admirable, I fear that it may be doing you more damage than good. Tears are not evil. Do not be afraid to let them fall."

"As a child, I lost my mother and brother. A few years on, I lost my father," Thranduil said quietly. As he sat at the foot of the tree, his vision started to blur. He wondered vaguely if it was from rain water. "I never imagined that I would lose my child or wife. But it may well have come to that already."

"No-one expects anything such as this to happen," Alondir murmured.

"So, why does it?"

The veteran warrior sighed, and leaned against the trunk of the tree as though for support. "You ask a question that cannot be answered."

"There are many more," Thranduil whispered. He rested his head in his hands, and exhaled shakily as he said: "There are so many more questions that I have been asking myself, but none of them can I answer. The waiting is the worst part. And the not knowing."

"Of course. But maybe we will know more when we arrive at this man's home," Alondir replied. "Maybe then some of our fears can be alleviated, our questions answered."

Thranduil did not reply. He looked up at the sky, narrowing his eyes slightly against the heavy rain. "There is a storm coming," he said quietly. "I can feel it in the air."

"Yes. I heard some thunder a while back. It is quite a way from here, but I think that it is great in size," Alondir replied. He glanced down at the younger Elf, and smiled slightly. "Let us hope that it does not strike here. This rain is quite enough to be going on with."

"I wonder if Legolas is close to the storm," Thranduil murmured. "If he is, I know that he will be feeling afraid and unsafe. I cannot bear to think of him so. Before he disappeared, he always had a fear of thunder and lightning that is natural to any child. But he was never alone. I was there to hold and comfort him, but now… Alondir, if my son is alone…"

"Try not to think of it," the commander advised softly.

"How can I not?" Thranduil snapped, looking up angrily. But then he shook his head, and flicked his gaze away. "Forgive me. I did not mean to… I just… Alondir, I want my child back. I want him to be here with me now, and I want my wife to be happy once more. I want everything to go back to the way it was, and…"

Alondir smiled sadly. He knew why Thranduil had fallen silent, and he was glad that the proud Elf was allowing tears to fall. Tears are not evil, they are not enemies that have to be fought away. Instead, they are elixirs of healing, for they help to cleanse the heart and soul of grief, of pain. They are proof that the one who sheds them is no different to anyone else, they are proof that emotions exist in everyone.

"I know what you want," Alondir replied after a while. "And one day, you may well receive it. I cannot say when, or even if indeed you will. But you may."

Thranduil pulled the back of his hand over his eyes, and let out a deep breath as he got to his feet. He turned to face the elder Elf, and nodded determinedly. "Yes, I may. The hope I had for finding Legolas was fading swiftly, but Thalion's revelation this evening has restored it. I think that he will be there. The Valar have been playing games with us for too long. They are not cruel enough to continue."

Alondir made a brief incline of his head; but he remained silent, not trusting himself to give an answer to that. The Valar should not carry on hurting Mirkwood, they should take pity on Thranduil and his family. But the commanding officer had a strange feeling, one which he could not place – nor did he really want to – that not all was yet over. Somehow, he knew that there was more to come.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Well, this was a fairly long chapter. I was going to wait until tomorrow evening to finish typing it up, but I thought I'd do it all now, because I know how frustrating it is having to wait to read something when you have already been given a time for when it'll be up. **

**That's all I'm going to say now, because its past midnight and I have to get up for college in the morning, and I don't feel too great right now – I think I'm getting a cold!**

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me, **

**Misto**

**x-x**


	12. Chapter 12

The sun was peeking out almost apologetically from behind fluffy white clouds, as though ashamed to show her face after the great storm of the night before. Her dusty rays shone down upon the places of Arda that were not marred by any evil; and the dew on the grass and leaves on the trees shimmered underneath her touch. As Seregeth stepped out of his cottage, he reflected that it was always the morning after the storm which was most beautiful.

He breathed in the sweet scent of the air cleansed by the sky's tears the previous night, and smiled as it gently assaulted his senses. But then he caught sight of Legolas, and his eyes narrowed – not in anger, but in concern and confusion. As he made his way over to the chained captive, his heart sped, and pounded almost painfully against his chest.

The boy lay unconscious in the wet grass, his small body curled in a position that had clearly not done anything to protect him against the elements. His face was deathly white, yet the skin underneath his eyes was ringed black. Had tears done that? Exhaustion? Or was he ill? Surely not. His lips were dry, and the lower one was badly cut. Evidently he had bitten hard on it during the night, maybe out of fear, or just to control his own cries.

Seregeth muttered a curse underneath his breath, and stalked back into the cottage. When he returned a minute later, he was holding a large blanket which looked as though it had seen better days. He threw it onto the tree stump and knelt down next to Legolas. The boy did not look well at all. But as he unlocked the iron collar and pulled it off the slender neck, he told himself firmly that Elves did not get ill.

Legolas stirred slightly, and his head lolled to one side. His lips parted, and the hoarse words which came from them were barely audible. "Nana…Ada…"

"Open your eyes," Seregeth commanded sharply. "Look at me, child."

"Ada? No…not Ada," the Prince whispered.

The mortal raised his eyes in frustration, and pulled his prisoner up into a sitting position. He took the blanket which lay nearby, and wrapped it around the small body. "Can you stand? I want to get you inside," he said.

No reply came. The only thing keeping Legolas from sinking back to the ground was the strong hand on his shoulder, so with a deep sigh of annoyance, Seregeth lifted the boy into his arms. He nearly dropped him in surprise. Five weeks back, he had been light. But now he was practically…nothing! The man shook himself, and went back into the cottage. He did not look at Criltha, but she was on her feet immediately, following him into the room that she shared with Legolas.

"Is he well?" she asked softly.

"Does he look well to you?" Seregeth shot back. "He is not ill, but he is tired – tired to the point of exhaustion, I think."

Criltha shook her head as her captor laid the boy down onto a mattress. "No, he is ill. Look at him, how can you think otherwise? He is as white as snow, there are shadows under his eyes, he is shaking as though with cold but there is sweat on his body. That looks ill to me."

"Elves do not get ill," Seregeth said sharply.

"But-

"Hold your tongue! I know that it is not possible for Elves…to…"

During the exchange of words Legolas had, with great difficulty, rolled himself onto his side. He rested his head against the cool pillow for a moment, before vomiting violently onto the floor. Coughing, and with tears in his eyes, he shut out the voices of the two mortals. Seregeth was shocked, but Criltha, although she looked sympathetic, had a hint of triumph about her expression.

"I do not know much about Elves, but I learned a few things of them when a traveller passed through my village," she explained. "In his stories, he said that precious little will make sick an adult Elf, but with their children it is a different matter. Their bodies are not developed enough to fight off many illnesses. They feel cold, they are affected by it."

"Why did you not speak of this last night?" Seregeth snarled.

"You would not have listened to me even if I did. But the bottom line is this: if you put both a human child and an Elven child in conditions such as last night, the Elf will be just as ill as the mortal," Criltha replied. "The proof is before you."

Seregeth shut his eyes, and exhaled deeply. "Damn. If I had known about this then, I would not have put him outside."

"You do not care for his wellbeing," the girl said derisively.

"No. But he is the only Elf I have ever had, and am ever likely to. I do not want him dead. Dead, he is of no use to me," Seregeth replied. He stood, and walked to the door. "Take care of the boy. I am going to find some medicine."

Criltha glared after him for a moment, but then she looked back down at Legolas, and her expression softened somewhat. "This should not have happened," she sighed. "I am sorry that I did not do more to try and stop him. But he would not listen to anything that I said."

"I am so hot," Legolas whimpered, pulling shakily at the large blanket wrapped around his small frame. "Take it off me. Please."

"You have a fever, and you must sweat it off," Criltha said apologetically. "The blanket must stay on, little one."

"I…I hurt."

"I do not doubt that. But once the fever has broken, you will feel a bit better. It should not take long, but I am no healer so I cannot say for sure," the girl replied. She paused, and smiled briefly. "Just be thankful that you are an Elf. Humans must live with this throughout their lives. And at least you will heal swiftly."

"I want Ada," Legolas whispered. "And Nana."

Criltha sighed deeply, unable to reply to words that she did not understand. But then the Elfling turned onto his side, pulling the small pillow with him. As it moved, the corner of a book that he often looked at was revealed, and the girl was struck with a sudden idea. She picked it up, and flicked randomly through it. She could read to him. That was always a comfort for children.

But as she reached the very first page of the book, her heart pounded, and her eyes widened in shock. Whatever she had expected to see, it had not been the name 'Prince Thranduil Oropherion' scrawled at the top of the page. She stared at it for a full minute, too full of wonder and surprise to ask the Elfling about it. Questions still whirled in her mind, though. How had he come by the book of a Prince?

The door opened, and Seregeth entered. He was holding a cup of some medicine, and he set it down on the floor beside Legolas' mattress. Criltha snapped the book shut quickly – too quickly – and tried to stuff it back under the pillow. But the man was also quick. He grabbed her wrist in a tight grip and snatched the book from her, suspicion etched into every line of his face.

"What were you looking at?" he asked sharply, flicking to the first page. But even as he spoke, his eyes found what had so shocked Criltha. They widened as he read aloud: "Prince Thranduil Oropherion? But who is he? And why does the Elf have his book?"

Legolas lay in silence, facing away from the mortals. His small body shook uncontrollably, and yet the heat was so unbearable that he wanted to rip off the stifling blanket and run outside into the cold stream. But he was weak, so weak, and he was struggling to stay conscious. It would not be much longer before he fell back into darkness, where he would feel no pain or discomfort. There he would be safe.

As a black veil started to fall down over his eyes, the Elfling was dimly aware of what Seregeth and Criltha spoke of: a name…a name that he knew. He tried to fight against the oncoming darkness so that he could tell them just who that name belonged to. But no, that was wrong, he reminded himself. They mustn't know, especially the man. Especially him, because…he… The light vanished. Legolas succumbed to deep sleep.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in Mirkwood, fifteen of the realm's soldiers were waiting in the courtyard, along with Thranduil, Alondir and Thalion. Horses stamped impatiently upon the ground, Elves muttered under their breath, and even the trees added their annoyance at the wait. But waiting was, for the moment, necessary. A contingent of warriors had been sent out in the early hours, whilst the moon was still high, to clear the path that would be taken of Orcs, and to search the surrounding areas for anything that could be a potential threat. The travellers could not be hindered.

"It will not be long now," Alondir said quietly. "A message will arrive soon."

"I have waited five weeks already. I suppose that five minutes will not make any difference," Thranduil replied. He paused, and was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged lightly. "Or it could make all the difference."

"Maybe, but you should not think in such a way," Alondir said.

Thalion was seated in between the two immortals on a grey Elven steed, and he looked up to shake his head. "I think not. The man who I believe to have Legolas does not tire of his children." Thranduil stiffened at that. "Or rather, the children he keeps."

"He should not be allowed near them," the King ground out.

"No. But he does get near them. As I was saying…the man keeps human children for months at a time, maybe even more," Thalion continued cautiously. "An Elf he would want to possess for as long as possible. He would consider it a rare prize, and would not part easily with it."

Thranduil looked up, and regarded the mortal carefully. "You did not tell me how you know this man. All you said was that you 'know of him'. How?"

"I…I lived thirty minutes from his home," Thalion replied uncomfortably. "It is known by some that he keeps children."

"And nothing has ever been done?" To the surprise of all around, it was not Thranduil who spoke, but Alondir. Rarely was his voice full of disgust and derision, but now it was. "I know of not one Elf who would leave a child to be imprisoned and victimised. Is it different among humans? Do they consider it natural?"

"Not at all, but…" Thalion swallowed, and looked down at the ground. "I do not-

"Wait!"

Again there came a surprise. Queen Laerwen ran into the courtyard. Upon leaving shadow and entering the bright glare of the sun, she stopped and pressed a hand against her head. Sharp Elven eyes saw her sway, and although several soldiers made to dismount and assist her, Thranduil was at her side almost immediately. As he caught her arm to hold her steady, his heart thudded against his chest. It hurt to see what his beautiful wife was becoming.

'_You look…ill, Laerwen,' _he thought. _'I have not seen you in the sunlight for a long time. You have shut yourself inside, and look what it has done to you. You cannot stand without support, so used to darkness have you become.'_

"My head pains me," Laerwen murmured, closing her eyes against the sun. Thin lashes lay against sickly cheeks, and they fluttered ever so slightly as she spoke. "It hurts…"

"That does not surprise me," Thranduil replied quietly. "I did not know that you have been abusing your body so. You cannot have been eating – you look so thin. Your hair does not have the shine that it used to. Your eyes are dull, and…I did not see this before."

"The sun shows us for what we really are," Laerwen whispered.

Thranduil was still for a moment, but then he led his wife away from the waiting group – they all looked shocked to see the Queen in such a condition. "What has happened to you?" he asked softly. "What has happened to the woman I married?"

"She is fading."

"No."

"Her heart has been shattered into a thousand fragments. Tears are the only friends that she now has, for she is alone. She is dying. Every day, a little more of her dies, and it will only be so long before her body is all that remains." Laerwen's voice was slow, almost dreamy. It sounded as though sleep could take her where she stood. "Thranduil, she is broken. Your wife is dying."

The Elven-king looked away, and shook his head slowly. "It cannot be. You told me last night that I am strong. So are you. Five weeks have passed, and yet you still are here."

"But not for much longer." Laerwen raised a hand, and turned her husband's face so that she met his eyes. "In seven days, a ship will be in the Grey Havens. In seven days, I leave Middle-Earth."

"No, you cannot," Thranduil whispered. "How will you know if I have found Legolas? Seeing him would save you, I know it would. Give me time. Give me time to get to the mortal's home, rescue our son, and bring him back here."

Laerwen opened her mouth as if to dispute this, but then she closed it and nodded once. "Seven days. Then I will leave Mirkwood. I can give you no more."

"So be it, if you cannot hold on for Legolas," Thranduil said quietly.

"I love you. And if this is the last time that I look upon you on these shores, I would have our parting be a happy one, not marred by anger or bitterness. I want your blessing," Laerwen murmured. "I want to leave with the knowledge that our love is still alight. Is it now? Will it be seven days hence?"

Thranduil was silent. Deep down inside of himself, he had expected this to happen. He had known that Laerwen could not live through such a devastating loss. But she _had_ tried. She deserved to have his blessing; she deserved to know that their love was as strong as the day of their bonding. It did not matter that his own heart was hurting. It was only fair that he-

"My Lord!"

Breaking eye contact with Laerwen, Thranduil turned to see a member of the home guard racing into the courtyard on horseback. His heart sped in anticipation. If a positive report was delivered, their journey would start immediately. But if the report was negative, they could well be delayed considerably. It could go either way, and he was almost afraid to hear what the messenger had to say.

"My Lord, your path is clear. All Orcs sighted have been disposed of, and there are members of both the home guard and border patrol positioned through the trees to ensure safe passage," the soldier reeled off breathlessly.

"We leave in one minute," Thranduil snapped. Turning back to Laerwen, he caught her hand, and pulled it up over his heart. "You speak the truth - this could be the last time that we meet on these shores. I love you. I have not stopped loving you, even over these past weeks when our tempers have been frayed and we have argued as children do. Know that I love you, Laer. Do not forget it."

"I never will," the Queen answered softly. "I am sorry. It should not be this way. We should have more time…"

"No. I cannot lose you to death because that is final, but in Valinor we may meet again." Thranduil paused, and lowered his eyes slightly. "If Legolas is not found, perhaps sooner than you think."

Laerwen exhaled shakily, and nodded. "Legolas. If you find him and it is too late for me…tell him I tried. I tried to hold on, but I had to save myself. And this - give it to him."

"I will," Thranduil replied, as he took the silver chain and slipped it over his own head. Underneath his tunic, the cool crystals rested against his chest – he knew that as long as he wore it, it would serve as a constant reminder of his wife.

"They are waiting for you," Laerwen said quietly.

The Elven-king did not glance at his soldiers, but he nodded anyway. "Then that means I must go. I will try to save you by finding our son. I will try my hardest, I swear. But if I fail, I…"

"Go."

Thranduil was still for a moment, but then he turned away without ceremony. Still he held Laerwen's hand. But he had to let go, he had to let _her_ go. As he walked back to his horse, he felt her fingers fall from his own; and he closed his eyes to try and shut out the pain that was becoming so engraved into his life now that it was no stranger. He was losing her. What chance there was of saving her, he did not know. He did not even want to think about it.

"I am glad to see that you and she have managed to forget the troubles of the past few days," Alondir said softly, as his friend mounted. "I know that it has been far from easy."

"We had to forget them, because otherwise she would leave with the knowledge that our final parting was bitter," Thranduil replied. "I could not do that to her."

"Leave? What do you…? No. Surely not…"

"Seven days is all that is left to her," the Elven ruler said in a low voice. "Seven days, and then it is over."

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

The twin sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris had not quite reached adulthood – although they were often heard protesting that, to be fair, they were not far off – and it was because of this that their journeys alone were short and without adventure, whilst their longer expeditions were overseen by an older and more experienced Elf, one who their father both respected and trusted. On this occasion, they were accompanied by their mentor; and much to their excitement, he had led them further away from home than they had ever before been.

"I have never witnessed a storm as great as last night's," Elladan commented, as he filled some water skins at the river which ran close to their campsite. "The rain was so loud that I could hardly hear myself think."

"Or maybe it was just that constant humming in your head," Elrohir shrugged. He grinned, and moved away as his brother flicked water at him. "My thanks. Despite hanging them over the fire last night, my clothes have only just dried. It would be greatly appreciated if you refrained from dampening them once more."

"I imagine it would, but you have just given me more reason to do so," Elladan smiled, sitting down beside his twin. He looked up at the sky and shook his head slowly, as if conjuring a memory. "The thunder. It was like music, like a beautiful drum reverberating through the valley. And the lightning was a contrast to that – it reminded me somewhat of the tongues of snakes."

"Poetic indeed," Elrohir snorted.

"When we return home, I might paint a picture of the storm," Elladan replied. "Maybe I can fit you into it somewhere. Where were you last night? Oh yes. Huddled in the furthest corner of the cave, crying. And then I will hang the painting for all to see."

"I was not crying," Elrohir said, incredulity creeping into his voice. "I just…slightly dislike storms."

Elladan laughed, and shot his brother a disbelieving look. "Slightly? Do you know what 'understatement' means?"

"Do _you _know what 'fill those water skins and bring them straight back to the cave' means?"

The dark haired Elf looked up, raising a hand at the same time to his eyes, shading them from the sun's glare. He grinned apologetically. "I know what it means, I just-

"You were too busy teasing your brother?" Glorfindel asked. With a smile, he seated himself in between the twins, and shrugged lightly. "No matter, no harm done."

"There is. His words have wounded me," Elrohir said, feigning hurt.

The seneschal rolled his eyes as he pulled an old map out from the pocket of his tunic. "I am confident that you will live. Now. Do either of you know where in all of Arda we might be?"

"What?"

"You do not know?"

"You have lost us?"

"Your faith in me is quite astounding. Of course we are not lost. I know exactly where we are, and I could probably find our position on this map with my eyes closed," Glorfindel replied. "But, can you?"

"On a piece of parchment as old as our father?" Elladan asked. "No, I should think not."

"Try. Elrond will never allow you to come alone on a journey such as this even when you have reached adulthood if you cannot correctly read a map," the seneschal said. "It is a skill worth learning, believe me."

"Let me look. 'Dan is an idiot, he will never find us," Elrohir said. Taking the map, he grinned at his brother. "Sorry."

"Never mind, it is the truth." Elladan smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. As he looked away, a deep sigh escaped his lips, and he lowered his eyes to the floor. He was unaware of Glorfindel's keen gaze trained on him.

"Do you want to tell me?" the elder Elf asked softly.

"What?"

"I know, penneth. I can see that something is troubling you," Glorfindel replied. He turned his charge's face so that their eyes met, and smiled gently. "I have been both your mentor and friend for many years. You have always been able to talk to me. Has that changed?"

"No, but I…it does not matter. What I want to say is nothing," Elladan answered quietly.

"Very well. I-

"In the storm last night, I stood outside so that I could see it better. You were in the cave with Elrohir, and you were telling me to come inside. I did not." The dark haired immortal looked down at the ground, and shook his head slowly. "I could not. I heard…something."

"What did you hear?" Glorfindel pressed softly.

"Screams. Screams and cries that were carried on the wind straight to my ears," Elladan whispered. "The noise of the storm made them faint, yet still I could hear them."

"The screams of a woman?"

"I think not. I think they belonged to a child, and…" The young Elf raised his eyes to meet the seneschal's, and they begged for answers. "The screams were horrible. So full of fear and pain. Are we near to any towns? Could it have come from them?"

"There are two towns close by," Glorfindel said slowly. "One is perhaps twenty minutes from where we now are. The other is a little further – fifty minutes, I believe."

Elladan nodded. "That sounds right. But, do you think that I am working myself up for nothing? Am I overreacting? Or did I just imagine the screams?"

"I cannot give you answers, although it is of course possible that the noises existed only in your mind," Glorfindel replied. "We are in no rush. We will stay here for one more night so that you can listen for them again, if that would help to ease your mind at all."

"Thank you," Elladan said quietly. He looked across at his brother, who had moved some way away to study the map. "I would usually tell Elrohir of this, but I do not wish to spoil the trip for him. He would only worry."

"I will remain silent. I do not think that-

"Here! I have found it!"

The seneschal looked up, and smiled as the other twin came running towards them. "Come on then, impress me."

"Prepare to _be_ impressed," Elrohir grinned. He looked down at the map, and made a vague gesture with his hands. "Now. I knew already that we are not close to Imladris or Lórien, because I would recognise those areas. And because we travelled through some of the Grey Mountains, I can deduce that we came East. So, from looking at this map, I would say that we are somewhere around…here."

Glorfindel nodded as Elrohir pointed at a small cluster of trees between Mirkwood and the Ered Mithrin. "Yes, well done. We are four days from the realm of the wood-elves. What do you think?"

"I… Do you want to go there? I am sure that Mirkwood is a charming place, but…" Elrohir trailed off, and gestured again with his hands. "I do not…"

"He is afraid of the King," Elladan said quietly.

"Yes. He came to Imladris a few years back for talks with Adar. He was late for a meeting, and I passed him in the corridor. I got in his way," Elrohir explained. "He snapped at me, and… Well, it was most unfriendly. To be fair, the whole thing was his fault. He should learn how to keep track of the time."

Glorfindel laughed, and shook his head. "Thranduil has a temper like none I have known. But he is quite harmless and has a good heart, despite what some may say of him. He is a friend of mine."

"Nice, but I still do not like the idea of venturing into Mirkwood," Elrohir said mutinously.

"He has a young son, I believe."

"I do not like children."

"Is there anything that you do not fear?"

"Funny," Elrohir snorted.

He got to his feet and walked in the general direction of the cave that they were using as a campsite, but not before reaching into the river to flick some water at the other two Elves. Elladan laughed along with Glorfindel, but there was little humour to it; and as soon as his brother was gone, he fell silent once more. He could feel a pair of emerald eyes on him, but he did not meet them.

"I understand that what you heard last night must have shaken you, but you should try and forget it for the moment," Glorfindel said softly. "I am sure that the mystery will be cleared up soon enough."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**I am aware that this is quite a short chapter in comparison to some of the previous ones, but although I considered adding chapter 13 onto the end of this, I decided against it because I've only written up to about chapter 19, and I don't want to be in the position where I'm updating faster than I can write. **

**Thanks for reviewing, everyone! See you next week!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	13. Chapter 13

Night had fallen long ago. The moon was high in the sky; the sun had hidden her face hours back. Yet sleep had not been granted to Seregeth's two prisoners. An interrogation had been under way all day concerning the matter of the Prince's book, but no answers had been given. Legolas, though he had improved since that morning was still unwell, and spoke very little. Criltha stubbornly maintained that she knew nothing.

"How did you come by this book?" Seregeth snapped at the Elfling, for what seemed the hundredth time.

"Ada…"

"And how did _he _come by it?"

Legolas shook his head once – it hurt – and pulled the blanket tighter around his body. He was still slightly feverish, but the heat coupled with his natural ability to heal was combating it well. "I don't know," he sighed. "Ada just…just gave it to me."

"Without telling you where he got it?"

"No, it was a present." Legolas glanced down at Mellon, who lay subdued at his side. "It was a present that I promised to look after."

"Of course, if it belonged to royalty," Seregeth sneered. Narrowing his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest, and stared at the boy. "I may not be very well learned in lore and history, but I can tell you the names of kings of men and their dates. I can tell you where they ruled, who their families were, how they died, and so on and so forth. I expect that Criltha can also, and she is even less well learned than I. I find it _very _hard to believe that you cannot do the same for your own race. In fact, I do not believe it."

Legolas turned his face away with closed eyes, and sighed deeply. "Yes. You are right. I know who Thranduil is."

"I thought so. Now. Tell me."

"He is not a Prince," Legolas whispered. "Well, he is - a Sindarin Prince. But he is also… He is the King of Mirkwood."

Seregeth looked up, and arched an eyebrow. "Is he? Is he indeed?"

"Yes."

"And you know him, don't you? I can see it in your eyes," the man hissed. "You know the Elf who once owned this book; and damn it! You will not tell me! I will get it out of you, boy, before this night is out. Believe me."

"What if you are wrong?"

Seregeth curled his lip as he flicked his eyes across to where Criltha sat on her own mattress. "And that means what, exactly? How might I be wrong?"

"To my mind, it is no matter that Legolas has the book of a King or Prince or whoever this Elf may be," the girl replied. "Items such as this get passed around from family to family; they are sold for high prices at markets. I just think, with all due respect, that you are jumping to the wrong conclusions."

"No." Seregeth stared at the book in his hands for a moment, before shaking his head and throwing it at Legolas. "No, he is keeping a secret from me. I dislike secrets, and this one will not be kept."

With a venomous glare at each of his prisoners, the man turned on his heel and slammed through the door. A second later, the crash of another door was heard – Seregeth had stormed into his own room, like a child in a temper. Legolas was silent, staring at the floor. The sweat which had covered his body for most of the day was gradually dissipating, but he did not even notice the fading discomfort.

He had come close, so close to jumping to his feet and screaming, 'Thranduil is my father! You have captive the son of a King!' The man's constant flow of accusations and questions had been not just tedious, but wearying for the unwell Elfling; and all he had wanted was for the noise to go away. And now it had. Now it was silent, and perhaps his ill body would finally be allowed some sleep.

"You look better than you did earlier," Criltha quietly observed.

"Elves heal very quickly, even children. I do feel a bit better. My head still pains me, though," Legolas replied. "And I am tired. I want very much to go to sleep, and…and just forget everything that has happened."

"Maybe you can, in a minute."

"What?"

Criltha was silent for a moment, but then she moved from her own mattress to the Elfling's, and said in a low voice: "I knew who Thranduil was before you revealed that he is King of Mirkwood. I used to hear his name mentioned on occasion in my village – it is fairly close to your home. Your name, however, I have never heard. I suppose that is because you are but a child."

"I am not sure why you are saying this," Legolas said slowly.

"Because I know who _you_ are. I am not entirely stupid, I can add up." Criltha shook her head, and let out a deep exhale of breath. "I have put two and two together, and come up with this: You are Thranduil's son. You are a Prince of Mirkwood, held prisoner here by Seregeth. _Royalty_."

Legolas' eyes widened, and he stared at the girl in horror. "How did you…? But if you know, that means he must…"

"Calm yourself. He does not know, and I am not going to tell him," Criltha said. "But why is it so important that your identity is a secret?"

"Because if Seregeth knew that I was…_am_ royalty, any terrible thing could happen. He could sell me to slavers for a high price. He could kill me and get rid of my body so that should my father ever realise that I was here, his wrath would not be incurred," Legolas replied, despair creeping into his voice. "Don't you see? It is safer for me that he does not know. Please, you cannot tell him."

"I have already said that I will not." Criltha stared at the boy for a whole minute, before shaking her head slowly. "Despite that, your secret will not be kept. Before long, I do not doubt that Seregeth will guess the truth, as I have. And that puts you in a dangerous position. A very dangerous position."

"I know," Legolas whispered.

"You need to get away from here," Criltha said in a low voice.

"Escape? But I… How could I? Seregeth would catch me, I know he would. He told me on my first day here that no-one escapes. He _always_ catches them." Legolas shook his head vehemently, too panicked to even notice the pain. "No. I must stay here."

"Until someone comes to rescue you?" the girl laughed. "If that has not happened yet, it never will. Only you can save yourself."

Legolas looked out through the window at the dark sky, and sighed. "I do not know where I am. I do not know anyone here. I would only be taken prisoner again, but by someone else. And maybe they would treat me in worse ways than Seregeth does. He hurts me, but at least I have food and shelter. I suppose that in some ways, I should count myself lucky."

"What if…" Criltha fell silent again almost immediately, and looked away. "No."

"Go on."

"What if _I _escaped instead? You could help me to do it," the girl said slowly, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes. "I know vaguely where we are. I could get help."

"That is a risk," Legolas replied.

"But, for freedom I would be prepared to take it. All of my life I have been a prisoner, trapped by different men who wanted the same thing. I could never run," Criltha murmured. "I was always too afraid, because I was alone. But now there is another whose life is at stake. If I cannot summon the courage to escape for my own sake, I should be able to for yours."

"You will do this?" Legolas breathed, all pain and discomfort forgotten.

Criltha looked down at the Elfling, and their eyes locked. She nodded once. "Yes. Tonight."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Elrohir poked at the fire with a long stick, feeling a savage pleasure as the flames caught it, and burned it black. The fire, like him, was angry. Unlike him, it was venting its anger by roaring and cracking, hissing and spitting, wrapping orange jaws around the wood piled on top of it. He was just sitting in sullen silence, not talking to Elladan because Elladan would not talk to him; not talking to Glorfindel, because it was the seneschal who his brother had confided in.

He rarely felt the green claws of jealousy grab at him. In fact, this was one of the only times he could remember being afflicted with it. But it was unfair. He was Elladan's twin, they told each other everything. There was not one thing about his brother that he did not know, and there was not one thing about him that his brother did not know. But apparently that was all changing.

"You are not an Elfling, Elrohir."

The young Elf looked up sharply, and glared at Glorfindel through the fire. "Did I call myself one?" he demanded.

"No. But you are acting like one. You are moody and sulking. Why?" the seneschal asked softly. "Is it just because your brother wants to be alone?"

"No!" Elrohir snapped. "That is not it, I…I just… Never mind. _You _would not understand, I am sure."

"Very well, then." Glorfindel got to his feet, and started to walk towards the mouth of the cave. "Keep that fire under control."

"Why does my brother not trust me?"

At the small voice, the Elf-lord stopped. He looked back to Elrohir, and smiled gently. "What makes you ask such a question?"

"Something troubles Elladan, yet instead of coming to me, he went straight to you. Even after speaking with you, he would not tell me," the dark haired Elf murmured. "He has shut me from his mind, and no matter how I try, I cannot get through to him. Is it me? Have I done something to upset him?"

"I will not betray a confidence," Glorfindel replied. He sat next to his charge, and touched a hand to his shoulder. "But I _will_ say this: you are twins. You are closer than most siblings, and you always know each other's thoughts. You know when Elladan wants company, he knows when you want to be alone. You know if he is angry, and he can sense if you are sad. Surely if you had done something to upset your brother, you would have realised before now?"

Elrohir shook his head slowly as he poked the stick into the fire a little less aggressively than before. "I…I suppose so, yes. But he _is_ upset, whether it was my doing or not. I only want to know why. Is that too much to ask?"

"Of me, yes. But not of him," Glorfindel replied.

"He will only push me away," Elrohir said quietly.

"Perhaps he thinks that he is doing the right thing. You will not know unless you try and talk to him. I-

Glorfindel fell silent as the other twin entered the cave from the dark outside. Elladan glanced over at the two, but spoke no words; although when his eyes met the seneschal's, he shook his head as if to say 'nothing'. Elrohir watched the exchange in silence for a moment, but as his brother picked up a water skin and left once more, he jumped to his feet and followed him determinedly.

"Elladan!" he called. "Elladan, wait for me. Night has fallen. It would be safer if you were not alone out here."

The other twin stopped, and turned with a strange smile. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. I just…thought that you could do with some company," Elrohir replied. "After all, you have been out here for ages with no-one to talk to. Do you mind if I stay?"

"Suit yourself," Elladan shrugged.

The two walked in silence for a while, not looking at each other, and caught up in their own thoughts. Elrohir's confusion had only deepened instead of being alleviated. At least his brother had spoken, but the voice had been so careless, so cold. That was not natural for the usually cheerful Elf. What had happened? Elladan's eyes were fixed on the black sky, and he seemed not even to notice that his twin was there. He was preoccupied with listening out for the blood curdling screams of the night before.

High up in one of the trees an owl hooted loudly, and flapped away through the branches. Elladan wheeled around with a sharp breath, his eyes wildly searching for whatever had made the noise. When Elrohir put a hand on his arm to calm him, he jumped, and pushed it away. His brother stared at him in both anger and worry; and he felt the sudden fear subside slightly, to be replaced by guilt.

"I…I'm sorry," he began softly.

"Sorry? You should be, because you treat me as though I am an enemy," Elrohir replied, his voice sharp. "I am not, Elladan. I am your brother, your _twin_. I am your best friend, yet I have not felt like it all day. You shut me out of your mind, you tell me not to bother you, you push me away; and I am supposed to ignore that?"

"I wish you would," Elladan replied quietly.

"Indeed. And, why would that be? What could possibly be so awful that you have to keep it from me?" Elrohir snapped. "Have you done something? Has something been done to _you_? Are you hurt? You have to tell me, because I do not know if my guesses are wrong or right."

"They are wrong."

"So put me right."

A silence hung in the air for a moment, before Elladan nodded once, and sat down on the grassy floor. Pulling at the green blades and letting them tickle his fingers, he explained everything to his brother, shivering slightly as he recalled all that he had heard the previous night. When the short story was over, Elrohir also sat, but he did not speak any words.

"What do you think?" Elladan asked after a while.

"I think that you should have told me before."

"I was afraid that I would only worry you."

"You worried me anyway."

"I thought that I was doing the right thing, I thought that I was protecting you. Besides, I did not want to spoil the trip for you," Elladan sighed. "In hindsight, I suppose that keeping it from you only made matters worse."

Elrohir smiled, and reached across to touch his brother's arm. "Never mind. You had my best interests at heart, so I think that I can find it within me to forgive you. But next time, just remember that nothing you say will be too much for me to help you with. You are my brother, 'Dan. Seeing you in any form of pain hurts me."

"You will make me blush," Elladan muttered. He raised his eyes, and caught his twin's. "Thank you, 'Ro. Your words mean a lot to me, although there was no real need to say them. You know that I feel the same?"

"Of course." Elrohir smiled. "Do you want me to stay out here with you? I will, providing we move closer to the cave where perhaps I will feel the heat of the fire."

As they rose and started the walk back to their campsite, Elladan sighed. "I hope… No, I don't know. There is a part of me that wants to hear the screams again, because if I do, I will know that my mind did not conjure them. But the other part is afraid to hear them. They pained my heart."

"If you hear them tonight, you will have no need to fear them," Elrohir said, with a gentle smile. "You will not be alone."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Criltha looked at Legolas in the lamplight, and worry flitted across her face. She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I am no longer sure that this is a good idea."

"What? How can you say that? We have already planned-

"Hush, we do not want to alert Seregeth," Criltha hissed. "I did not mean that I am unsure of escape. I meant instead that maybe we should do it another night. You have not yet fully recovered."

"I am better than I was this morning," Legolas replied grimly.

"But we only have one chance," the girl said in a low voice. "Being here does not strengthen you at the best of times, but tonight you are weakened. If we fail, it is over. Remaining here will be our fate."

"I want to do this, whether I am still recovering or not. I have been here for what seems years, and what I want more than anything is to be free and with the ones I love," Legolas said quietly. He got to his feet, and made his way without a noise to the door. "If you want something desperately enough, you can achieve it."

"Wait." Criltha rose also, and rested a hand on the child's shoulder. She smiled gently at him. "Do not expect to be free by morning light. I will be as swift as I can in finding help, but you must prepare yourself for another day or two here."

"I can do that," Legolas said, defiance creeping into his voice.

The two prisoners looked at each other for a moment, silent messages of good luck and hope passing from eyes brightened with anticipation. Fear there was also, and doubt – that they would fail in their carefully thought out plan, and be back in the very same room in just a few minutes. Either of them could choose to back out, but neither would. If they did not at least try for freedom, they would never know.

Legolas was still; but then, drawing in a deep breath to calm the nerves that he could not help but feel, he turned the handle of the door, and pulled it ever so slightly towards him, so that it hung ajar. He rested his head against the wall, and peered outside with only one eye. It was dark in the next room. And empty. Good. At least the first part of their plan could be carried out with no disaster.

Seregeth was shut away in his own room. Seregeth was shut away in his own room. Seregeth was shut away in his own room. As he crept through the darkened cottage, taking care not to step on or knock against anything which could announce his presence too early, Legolas repeated those words in his head like a mantra. For the moment, he was safe. And strangely enough, now that the time had come for action, he was also calm.

The Prince lifted from the table the bowl of fruit which had sat there during his whole imprisonment; and carried it noiselessly to the front door. It was large and made of a crystalline material, and would definitely shatter upon impact. But that was good. It was soon to be thrown – hard – and it had to make noise. Lots of noise.

'_Do it now,' _Legolas told himself. _'Pretend that you are firing an arrow. Find your target: Seregeth's door. Concentrate… Line it up so that you do not miss. Hold yourself steady. Take a deep breath. Fire.'_

And so he did. As soon as the fruit bowl left his hands, the Elfling whirled around and threw himself out of the front door. He heard a crash and the sound of shattering glass, and also he could hear pieces of fruit thudding like heavy raindrops against the floor. But he was already running, running as he had never run before, up the long stretch of grass outside the cottage.

The only sound for a moment was the whipping wind and his own barely audible footsteps. But then came what he had been waiting for: an angry shout from inside the cottage, and heavy footsteps upon the ground. Seregeth was following. That was good. Legolas forced himself to speed up – he had to get his captor as far away from Criltha as possible.

"Come back here, boy!"

"No, catch me," the child whispered.

Never before had he been this far up the field, mainly for fear that he would be hurt. But now, regardless of the pain in his head and the gathering dots before his eyes, he let his feet fly. The brook ran alongside him, wider and deeper than it was down by the cottage. The moonlight shone in it, and Legolas looked down. Reflected in the silver water was his own reflection, and a little way behind, Seregeth's.

"Don't stop," the Elfling breathed to himself. "Don't stop until he catches you."

But the chase lasted only a matter of seconds more. Legolas, despite his slightly weakened condition was agile and swift, but the mortal had long limbs, and they could not be outpaced by a child. When he deemed himself to be close enough, he jumped forwards and pushed his prisoner onto the ground. He went down also, but he did not rise. Instead he straddled the boy, and struck him.

"Let go of me!" Legolas screamed. If his voice grew hoarse and his throat sore, so be it. The diversion had to work. "Let go of me, you cruel and spineless _torturer_! Let me-

Seregeth grabbed his prisoner's head, and slammed it back against the ground. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted. "How dare you?"

"How dare I? I dare because I wanted to, and you cannot stop me!" Legolas spat. "I wanted water – better water than that which you give me. It is like you – scummy and foul. No-one in their right mind would touch it. It would more than likely poison them."

"You insolent little brat," Seregeth snarled. "You have made a mistake, the biggest one of your life. You will pay dearly for it, you…"

The man's threats spilled like a waterfall; and although Legolas feared them, at that moment he cared not for them. His eyes drifted ever so slightly past his captor's left shoulder, and there was movement by the cottage. Criltha. She was leaving. As the girl stepped over the shallow and thinned stream, and disappeared into the dark trees, the boy breathed an inward sigh of relief, and looked back up at Seregeth.

"Do what you will to me," he hissed. "It does not matter any more."

"When you lie on the floor, broken and bleeding, you will not be saying that," the mortal spat back. He glared through blazing eyes for a moment, before rising and dragging the boy with him. "Come. You are going to learn a lesson. Another one."

"You are a bad teacher," Legolas sneered. Criltha had gone, that meant his part was over. But now that he had started rebelling, he could not stop. Five weeks of anger, pain and grief was spilling from him, and he was unable to halt it.

"Hold your tongue," Seregeth snapped.

"And if I do not?"

"I will cut it out."

As he was forced back to the cottage, Legolas pulled back his lips as a cat does, and stuck out his tongue with a hiss. "All that just to make me silent? Why? Do you have no more ideas? Have you run out?"

They had reached the stables. Seregeth suddenly whirled around, and grabbed the Elfling by the throat. He pinned him against the stone wall, his grasp cruelly tight. "I never run out of ideas, my child. You just have yet to see them all."

"Let go!"

"Am I hurting you?"

The man's grip tightened around the slender throat, his rough and calloused fingers rubbing painfully against the contrasting smooth skin. Legolas tried to cough, but it pained him greatly, and his eyes started to water. They were not just tears of agony, but tears of fear. He was no longer being tortured. He was being murdered. His captor was killing him.

"I…I can't breathe," he choked.

"I said I would silence you," Seregeth snarled. He held the boy against the wall for another few seconds, before jerking his hand away. "And so I have."

As Legolas hit the ground, he pressed a shaking hand to his sore throat, and rubbed gently at the chafed skin. He was fully aware of the sea-blue eyes staring down at him from on high, but he made no attempt to meet them with his own streaming ones, for he could not. Not yet. All he could desperately think was that the man had been strangling him; all he could wonder was if Seregeth was capable of murder.

"Get up," the icy voice commanded quietly.

The Elfling rose, feeling vaguely surprised that his shaking legs were holding him up. "What are you going to do?" he whispered.

"Do? Well, you and I are going to talk. In there." Seregeth pointed towards the cottage. "Go."

Legolas obeyed. He walked slowly into the small building, and stood in silence before the dead fire. Staring at the blackened pieces of wood and paper, he heard his captor disappear into the bedroom on the left hand side, and re-appear a few seconds later. But he did not turn. That would prove to be a mistake, though, as he learnt when a searing pain flashed across his shoulders.

He spun around with a cry, and stared in horror. "What are you doing?" he breathed. "What is that?"

"This?" Seregeth looked down at the many tailed black whip that lay in his hands, and smiled slowly. "This is what happens to little boys who make trouble."

The cruel device snapped across Legolas' chest before he had a chance to move away from it. Its sharp edges ripped through his thin tunic, leaving red welts across his tender skin. Some of the lines started to bead with blood. Tears pricked at the child's eyes, but he blinked them back; and with his head held high, stared defiantly at his torturer.

"You are brave." Seregeth flicked the whip against the small body before him. "I know grown men who would cry over this." Another assault. "You are determined not to let your tears flow." The many tails swept through the air again. "I wonder. From who did you inherit your stubbornness and pride?"

Legolas thought of his father, but said nothing. Of course he wanted to cry. Any child would. But he could be as brave as Thranduil, he knew that he could. He had done it so many times before. The Elven-king of Mirkwood would be too strong to shed tears for this, and his son was going to be no different. The Prince ignored the blood on his chest, but the pain would not go away as easily.

'_It hurts, it hurts,' _he screamed silently. _'But no. Think of Ada again. He is the bravest person that you know; and if you cry, that would be weak. No son of his would cry before someone like Seregeth. Do _not _be weak.'_

But it was getting increasingly harder to keep up the display of strength. The mortal was relentless in the punishment; and every lash of the whip seemed to contain just that little bit more cruelty than the last. As he struggled to keep his balance, Legolas could not help wondering if even the bravery of his father would be able to hold out for much longer against such agony.

"You are in pain. So much pain," Seregeth murmured, pausing for a moment to watch in morbid fascination as crimson droplets fell down the boy's lacerated chest. "But I am not going to stop. Oh no. I will continue with this until I receive two things. Firstly: your tears. Secondly: I want to know everything about the Elf-king of Mirkwood that you are not telling me."

"You will be waiting a long time for both," Legolas said through gritted teeth. But deep down, he knew that to be an idle threat. He was close, so close to breaking.

"Wrong answer." Seregeth raised the whip high above his head, and brought it whistling down to assault his victim's shoulders. The force of the device and pain it left sent Legolas to the ground, and although he struggled to get back to his feet, more lashes against his side rendered him incapable. He curled in on himself like a ball, protecting his head from the cruelty. But the rest of him was left without defence.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I will spare you," Seregeth snarled.

"No."

"Tell me."

"Never!"

Tears spilled from Legolas' eyes as the blood leaked from his multiple wounds and lacerations. His whole body was shaking with fear, pain. His bravery was no more. His strength had been beaten from him, and Seregeth was fully aware of that. He knew just how close he was to breaking his little victim, and he was not going to stop now.

"One out of two is not bad," he said, pausing to wipe some sweat off his brow. "But I do not settle for just one. So, tell me. Tell me what I want to know."

"Ada," Legolas whispered.

"What did you say?"

"Ada."

A feral growl escaped Seregeth's lips, and he kicked the curled up and shaking body with a booted foot. "Your 'ada' is precious to you. He is all you speak of. But do you think that you are precious to him? If that is so, why has he not come for you?"

"You don't understand," Legolas sobbed. "I didn't mean that-

"Of course I do." Seregeth picked up his whip, and trailed it lazily over the Elfling's cheek. "I understand more than you do. Your '_ada_' hated you, and when you disappeared from Mirkwood, he rejoiced."

"Don't say that," Legolas whispered through sharp gasps of breath. 'It isn't true.'

"Then, what is the truth? Tell me, boy. Tell me everything," Seregeth snapped.

The Elfling looked up, and stared through wet eyes at the loosely held whip. "You meant it," he murmured. "When you said that I would be broken and bleeding on the floor, you really meant it."

"I did," Seregeth replied, his voice like velvet. "And I can do worse if you do not speak soon."

"I will tell you the truth, because I do not think that the ending to this story will change, no matter how many chapters are left. If I keep silent, you will kill me. But if I talk, you will kill me sooner or later," Legolas said softly. "Why should I delay what is inevitable?"

"This is not what I want to hear," Seregeth snarled.

The child touched a hand to his chest, and when he raised it to eye level, it was bloody. He stared at it, and said in a low voice: "It is my father's name in that book. I am Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, and heir to the throne."

There was silence. Seregeth gazed at his victim, the expression on his face one of mixed emotions. He seemed unable to decide whether to laugh scornfully at the Elfling's statement, or swear violently and kick the wall. In the end he opted for neither. He simply raised one eyebrow and said: "What?" He sounded calmer than he felt inside.

"I am the son of the King," Legolas said quietly. "That is the truth. So I will swear before all of the Valar. And maybe you are right. Maybe my father does hate me. But even if he does, he will still be searching for me. He needs an heir."

This time, Seregeth did swear. He sank into one of the chairs at the table, and rested his head in his hands. He was muttering fearfully to himself, but Legolas did not listen. Holding a hand against his bloody chest, and breathing deeply to try and ease the pain that coursed all through his body, he sat up slowly. Some of his wounds stretched, others thinned, but it all conceived equal amounts of suffering. And still the red liquid fell.

"You claim to be the Prince of Mirkwood," Seregeth said after a while.

"I do not claim. I am," Legolas replied wearily.

The man shook his head as he stared at the prisoner. "There is no reason for me to believe you. After all, what proof do you have that you are the son of this King? None."

"I would have thought that the book is proof enough," the child answered.

"Even if you are telling me the truth this time, do not think that it changes anything. Of course this punishment is nothing compared to what you will receive for keeping such a secret, but it will _not _change anything. There are only three people who know that you are here. I am one of them. Amarth is another. A friend of mine is the last," Seregeth said. "None of us will reveal your whereabouts, should an army of Elves come asking."

"No, I don't suppose you will." Legolas dabbed gingerly at his wounds with the material of his ragged and torn tunic. "But at least now you know. That is what you wanted."

Seregeth opened his mouth to reply, but then he paused, and looked towards the door of the Elfling's room. "What is Criltha doing?" he asked softly. "Why has she not yet stuck her nose in to interfere in my business?"

Legolas swallowed, but he said nothing as the man got up and went to the door. He sat in silence, expecting to hear a roar of rage at any second. But there was nothing. Why? This was not natural. He had thought that the man would be furious, but it was not so. Seregeth re-appeared a few seconds later, a strange smile upon his face as he looked down through glittering eyes at his captive.

"So," he said quietly. "She has gone."

"Yes."

"And you helped her?"

"Yes."

"Where has she gone?"

"I do not know."

Seregeth's smile widened, although the light in his eyes was angry as he picked up a cloak from a peg by the door, and threw it around his shoulders. "Very well. I am going to search for her. If I do not find her, I shall return. But I shall not be alone."

"What do you mean?" Legolas whispered.

"You will see."

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

**Thank you all for your reviews, they mean a lot to me! I'm not quite sure what to say here because I'm really hungry – it's 10 in the evening and I haven't eaten nearly all day, and I'm really desperate to find some food! **

**I'm on Christmas holidays from college now, so although I have lots of assignments to do – one being that I have to observe my cats' behaviour for a minimum of six hours! – I'll also have more time to write. **

**The next chapter will be up on…well, Sunday is Christmas Day, isn't it? So I'll try and put the next chapter up on either Christmas Eve or Boxing Day. **

**Off to find some food now!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning: Mature themes ahead.**

The village in which the market had taken place only a few days back, was empty. It was late, and many of it's inhabitants were already abed. A few men had slipped away from their homes as was often done in the small community, though, to have a last mug of ale before the local inn closed for the night. This was Seregeth's first port of call, and likely to be his only one.

He leaned against the dusty bar, and nodded at the old man standing behind it. "Evening. Taras been in tonight?"

"What a daft question. Course he has," the bartender replied. "He's in his usual corner with a mug of ale and a bowl of soup. Same as he was last night. And I'll tell you something else for nothing too: he's one of my best customers, so don't you go dragging him away."

"Perish the thought."

"Here, don't go galloping off yet," the old man said, as the younger turned away from the bar. "You come into my inn, bringing the cold with you, I might add, and you don't even buy a mug of my finest?"

"I am here on business," Seregeth replied. "But take this."

He threw some coins onto the bar; and without another word, walked away to a corner at the far side of the inn. He looked down at the man occupying the table for a moment, before taking a seat opposite him. A bowl of steaming soup sat before the other, and Seregeth reached across to dip a finger into it. Upon tasting the watery liquid, he made a face.

"Why do you eat here?" he asked. "The food grows worse every day."

"My standards are lower than yours, I suppose," the other man said.

Seregeth nodded, and moved his chair closer to the table so that his words would remain only for his friend. "Do you remember what I said to you the other day in the market? About the girl?"

"Ah, of course. You promised her to me, should you choose to get rid of her," Taras replied with a grin.

"Yes, well. A problem has arisen in that she managed to…she…" Seregeth ground his teeth together, the noise audible across the table, and drank some of the other's ale. "She is gone."

"Escaped? From you? I thought you no longer allowed that to happen," Taras said in surprise. "Not since your children-

"Thank you. There is no need to bring them into this conversation," Seregeth said sharply. "But, you speak the truth. She managed to escape. What's more, after only a few days. And that means you cannot have her."

"Have you looked for her?"

"Of course. As well as I could in the darkness," Seregeth replied. "But her loss now is trivial. Despite her years living the life of a whore, she was the worst I have ever had. You would not have been impressed. However…"

Taras arched an eyebrow as his friend leaned closer over the table. "However?"

"You remember the boy?"

"Legolas, of course."

"I have discovered who he is."

"Who? Surprise me."

"What do you make of the name 'Thranduil'? He is the King of Mirkwood."

Taras was silent as he searched in his mind for all that he had ever heard of Elves and their doings. The revelation was not slow in coming. His green eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head as if trying to dispel such an impossible notion. He looked up at Seregeth and stared at him, still shaking his head slowly. The other man nodded once, a smile on his lips.

"Yes. That is where you knew the name from," he said softly. "Legolas is Thranduil's child."

"The son of a King," Taras murmured. "Do you know what this means? You have captive not just any Elf, but a Prince!"

"Do not announce it to the whole inn," Seregeth hissed. "This is something that I would have kept secret. But I am digressing. What I came to say to you is this: the girl you cannot have. Would you settle for the boy? Would you let him take her place?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in the cottage, Legolas had cleaned his wounds as best he could, and cut the bed sheets into strips so that they might serve as bandages. After finding another tunic among his meagre belongings to replace his bloody and ripped one, he had lain down gingerly upon his mattress, with both his book and his young dog held close to his injured chest. There were no tears in his eyes, but still he could not see. For he was in the past, watching happier times.

**Begin Flashback**

"_No. I don't want to. I can't."_

"_Legolas, if you would only try…"_

"_You don't understand, Ada. I _cannot _do it. The weapons master tried to teach me; Alondir tried to teach me; Nana's brothers tried to teach me; and I couldn't do it," Legolas said desperately. "I don't care if I make myself look silly before them. But I don't want to look silly before _you_."_

"_But you are being rather silly at the moment, would you not say?" Thranduil exhaled as his Elfling turned away. "Legolas, you tell me so often that you want to be a warrior. Do you really think that I could have you in my army if you are unable to fire an arrow?"_

"_But I always miss the target," the child sighed. _

"_You will to start off with, but with practice you will improve," Thranduil answered. "Let me help you."_

_Legolas looked down at the small bow and arrow in his hands, and chewed on his lower lip. "And if I miss, you will not laugh at me?"_

"_Never would I laugh at you, ion-nin," the Elven-king said seriously. "Now. Do you want my help? Good. Alright, first of all you must find a target. Any one."  
_

"_Um…I don't know," Legolas murmured. He looked around the training field, and his gaze settled at a small bush at the edge of it. "How about that? I could try and shoot a leaf."_

"_Which one?"_

"_Does it matter?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Oh." Legolas thought for a moment, before pointing to a yellow-brown leaf. "That one."_

"_Alright. Be sure to remember it, otherwise you will not know where to shoot," Thranduil instructed. "Raise your bow so that your left arm is straight, not bent at all. A little straighter. Good. And place your feet slightly apart."_

"_Like this?"_

_Thranduil nodded, and knelt on the ground behind his son. "Yes. Your whole body must be straight, as straight as the arrow you will fire. So pull yourself up. Pretend that there is a string attached to your head, and it is drawing you upwards. No, you do not want to be tall. Just straight."_

"_Is this enough?"_

"_Yes." Thranduil placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to keep him from moving any more. "Your body must be straight, but not tense. Try and relax. Now, I want you to draw the string so that your hand is level with your chin. Your arm must be straight enough that the string is taut. Is this hurting you?"_

"_A little," Legolas admitted. _

"_It will do first of all, because you are not used to standing so. Alright, now you are going to fire the arrow, but not until I say so. First of all, look down the shaft to make sure that your target is in line with the tip of the arrow," Thranduil said quietly. "Is it?"_

_Legolas nodded imperceptibly. "Yes."_

"_Keep it in sight. Pull the string a little tighter, and hold it steady. Draw in a deep breath, and hold it." Thranduil moved forwards so that he was right at his son's side. He was silent for a few seconds, but then he whispered into the Elfling's ear: "Now. Fire."_

_Legolas did. As soon as the arrow was released he closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see another failed shooting. He said nothing. Neither did his father. Did the silence mean that he had missed, then? Probably. It would not surprise him. And where had the arrow landed? It was more than likely lost, and he would have to spend hours searching for it, and that would only add to his humiliation. _

"_Are you going to open your eyes?"_

_The Prince was still for a moment, considering this, but then he did. His eyes flicked towards the bush hopefully, and he did a double take at what he saw. The leaf was lying on the floor, pierced by an arrow. Not just any one either – _his _arrow. He spun around to face his father, and said simply: "Did I do that?"_

"_You did that," Thranduil replied softly. "You should be proud of yourself, ion-nin. I am. I am _so _proud of you."_

_Legolas flushed, and lowered his gaze to the ground. "I did it," he murmured. "I actually managed to fire an arrow. Ada, you made me do it. I wouldn't have been able to if you had not helped me. Thank you."_

_Thranduil smiled as he was embraced by the little boy; and ran a hand gently through the golden hair. "No, you did it yourself. It was all you."_

"_I only wish that Nana had seen it," Legolas said against his father's shoulder. _

"_She did not miss it."_

_The child whirled around, a smile breaking upon his face as his mother left the shadow of the trees. "Nana!" he cried. "You were watching?"_

"_Of course, I would not miss this for anything," Laerwen replied. She went to her husband and wrapped an arm around his waist, though it was her son that her eyes were fixed on. "And I am in agreement with your father. You _should _be proud, tithen-las, for we are."_

"_And one day, you will make Mirkwood's army proud," Thranduil said. "For the time being, though, what do you say to going back to the palace and finding some food? After all, eating is important for warriors."_

_Legolas grinned and ran into his father's arms, fully supportive of the idea. Thranduil held the child with one arm; the other he wrapped around his wife's shoulders, pulling her close to his own body. The young family walked back across the training field together, all blissfully unaware that within a matter of months, their lives would be turned upside down in ways that none of them could predict. _

**End Flashback**

The memory was killed by the opening of the door. Legolas looked up, half afraid that Criltha would be with Seregeth, that their escape had failed. But no. With the captor was a tall man of around forty years. His eyes were green, flickering with a strange and almost hungry light. The Elfling got to his feet and looked from one mortal to the other, his heart racing.

"Your Royal Highness," Seregeth sneered. "May I present to you Taras?"

"He is even more beautiful now that I see him close up," the other man murmured.

"What is happening?" Legolas asked quietly.

"It is because of you that Criltha escaped. You must be punished for that, and of course for hiding your true identity for so long," Seregeth answered coldly. "It is only fitting that you take the girl's place, and serve my friend as she would have done. Do you not agree?"

"You cannot make me…" Legolas stared in horror, unable to find the right words. "No, I…I can't…"

"Taras, this toy the child dislikes greatly," Seregeth said, cutting through his prisoner's protests. "Use it on him, should you need it."

The other man took the whip and ran the tails through his fingers, a smile pulling his lips upwards. "Leave us now, my friend. There is work to be done."

As he and the stranger were left alone, Legolas backed away slowly, his eyes wide with fear. Even his young mind could comprehend what was going to happen. He knew what Criltha's purpose here had been, after all. And now, the same fate was going to befall him. He was innocent. But how long would that last? How long until his soul was ripped out, his heart broken?

"Do not cry," Taras said softly.

Legolas raised a hand to his cheek. It was wet. He had not realised. "Spare me," he whispered. "To do this would be murder. I would fade. You do not want to be guilty of inflicting such a pain upon me. Please, look within yourself and find the strength to spare me. For it will take more strength to let me go free than to…to…"

"Are you afraid?" Taras asked silkily.

"I am." Legolas drew in a sharp breath as his back came into contact with the wall. There was nowhere else to run. "I am frightened, more than I have ever been before. No amount of bravery or strength could prepare me for what you want to do."

"You must not weep," Taras murmured. He dropped the whip onto the floor, and walked forwards to the Elfling. As he rested a hand against the pale cheek, he smiled gently. "You see? I am not going to hurt you. I could never hurt a beautiful creature such as yourself."

Legolas sank onto the floor, and pulled his knees close to his chest. Sobbing, he rocked back and forth. "Lies, lies, all lies," he choked out. "More than anything you want to hurt me, and I have no defence against you. It's going to happen, isn't it? You're going to…force yourself upon me, and…"

As the words became incoherent, drowned out by grief, Taras moved forwards slightly and stroked the golden hair as if he was petting a dog. Legolas' tears only fell faster, his gasps of breath sharper. And then suddenly, pain struck his chest like a lightning bolt from the heavens. It was not external, but internal. It was his heart. Finally, after so many long weeks of being punished and tortured, this cruel act was the fatal one.

The young Elf tangled his hands in his own hair, pulling hard at it. Flaxen strands fell out and got caught up in his fingers, but he did not even notice. The other pain was so intense. Hands that were not his own started to rub against his throat, and the temptation to scream at the touch was overwhelming. This should not be happening. He was only a child, but age and innocence had ceased to matter.

"I never thought," Legolas choked through his tears, "that I would find someone worse than Seregeth. But I have: you."

One of Taras' hands snaked up, and he caught the wet face with his rough fingers. "That is true, my little angel. I am much worse than anything you have seen in your darkest dreams. Do not think that it is my friend to whom you belong, for it is now I-

A roar of pain suddenly rent the air. Legolas had sunk his teeth into the man's hand, and was biting down on it for all he was worth. The skin broke, but he did not stop there. Even the fingers pulling violently at his hair were not enough to drag him away. He bit harder. He was not going to be beaten.

"Seregeth!" Taras screamed.

Legolas closed his eyes tightly as blood fell into his mouth; and he fought the urge to vomit. It was coppery and bitter as blood should be, but the Elfling could taste the evil in it. He had to spit the foul tasting liquid out, otherwise it would run back into his throat, and that he knew would be impossible to withstand. It would render him unable to continue fighting. He raised his head, and tried to beat at the mortal with his shaking hands.

"You brat!" Taras snarled.

He grabbed the boy with both hands – the injured one dripping blood – and threw him violently across the room. Legolas hit the opposite wall with force, and crumpled in a heap on the hard wooden floor. His vision was flickering like a candle in the wind. Everything was darkening, darkening…and then it was gone. The tortured child's last view before darkness took him was of a mortal man, striding away through the door.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The group of Elves that had left Mirkwood rode no longer. They had stopped to rest for a half hour, not only for themselves, but so that their horses could be refreshed. They lit no fires in the small clearing, choosing instead to huddle together in small groups. Thranduil and Alondir were sat underneath an old willow tree, speaking in low voices away from the others.

"I do not understand," the commander said quietly.

"What?"

"Laerwen told you that she is fading, that in seven days she will leave Mirkwood for the Havens; and you have left her to come on this journey," Alondir replied. "I do not understand how you could make that decision. I am not judging you."

"Then, what are you doing?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Wondering why you are here, why you are not spending what time is left to you and your wife with her," Alondir said. "We could easily have done this without you."

"Choosing between your beloved and your child is one of the hardest choices to make, but the child will always win. I had to choose Legolas, for I could not bear to wait any longer than necessary to know," Thranduil answered. "Besides, Laerwen and I have said our final goodbyes. There will be no more."

"But-

"It is cold tonight."

Thranduil cast Alondir a strange glance, though he realised a second later that Thalion had sat down with them. "Oh. Yes, I suppose to mortals it more than likely is. I would suggest you light a fire, but there is little point. We will soon be moving off again."

"It matters not." Thalion drew in on his pipe, and held the smoke in his mouth for a moment. When he released it, many of the Elves looked away distastefully. "I will warm up when we start riding again."

The King looked with interest at the mortal's smoke rings, and shook his head slowly. "I have never understood that. Smoking, I mean. It does not appeal to me."

"Well, no. But you are an Elf," Thalion said with a smile. "Besides, you probably have never tried it."

"I have."

Alondir looked up sharply, and stared at his friend. "You have not."

"I have."

"When?"

"In the Second Age," Thranduil shrugged. "My brother brought some pipeweed into Greenwood after he went travelling, because he was curious about it. I was only a child, and I… Well, I believed him when he told me that it tasted of…strawberries."

"Strawberries?" Thalion snorted.

Thranduil smiled ever so slightly as a few Elves laughed quietly. "I liked strawberries. I do not any more."

"I never knew that you tried such a human custom," Alondir said, still surprised. "Did your father ever find out?"

"Of course not. Vehiron swore me to secrecy, but even had he not, I most certainly would not have…told…" Thranduil's voice faded into silence, and he raised a hand slowly to his chest. "Valar…"

"My Lord?" one of the soldiers asked softly. "My Lord, are you well?"

The King did not answer, nor did he even seem to realise that he had been addressed. Breathing heavily, he stumbled to his feet and backed away from the company, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically afraid. His left hand was curled tightly in the material of his tunic, directly above his heart. Only dimly could he hear his name being called – was that Alondir? Thalion? Either way, he gave no reply.

"Valar, no," he breathed. "Do not do this. Not when we are so close."

Alondir rose also, and faced the group of stunned Elves. "Prepare to leave. I fear that… No. Just prepare to leave, now."

The commander wheeled around and took Thranduil by the arm, pushing him gently but firmly through the trees and out of the clearing. Thalion hesitated for a moment, debating; but then he turned also, following the two immortals. He did not know what was happening, but he did know that something was wrong – very wrong.

Outside of the clearing, Thranduil was leaning against the trunk of a tree, one hand tightly grasping Alondir's shoulder. The other had not left his heart. As he listened to the two Elves speak, Thalion felt an empty sensation in the pit of his stomach, and his own heart sank painfully.

"It has happened," Thranduil whispered "What I feared most of all has happened."

Alondir searched the terrified azure eyes with his own dark ones, and shook his head slowly. "What, mellon-nin? What has happened? Tell me."

"I feared it with every fibre of my being, but I did not imagine that my fear would manifest into reality," the blonde Elf breathed. "But it has. Valar, it has. I can feel it. But not him."

"You make no sense. Tell me, so that I can help you." When he received no answer, Alondir caught his friend by the shoulders, and shook him slightly. "Thranduil! Tell me."

"It has gone. My connection with Legolas has gone. It was growing fainter as each day passed, yet even this morning I could still feel him. But now…" The Elven-king closed his eyes, and looked away from the commander. "Now all I feel is emptiness."

"No, it cannot be," Alondir whispered. "Search for the connection. Look deep within yourself, feel for it."

"It has gone!" Thranduil passed a hand over his eyes, and stared desperately, _helplessly_, at the dark sky. "Valar, why? Why have they done this? They have taken my only child from me."

"You do not know that," Alondir said sharply. "Do not say it!"

"I know it," Thranduil replied in a low voice. "And I know what it means. If Legolas is not dead, he is fading. He is emotionally close to it. I have lost him."

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

When Legolas awoke from unconsciousness later that night, his first sight was of another person in the room. At first glance he thought that it was Taras, come back to fulfil the hateful act which he had started earlier on. But no, it was Seregeth. The mortal's presence in the room was in no way comforting, but the child felt that it was safer than the other man's.

"How long have you been there?" he asked quietly, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. "And how long was I unconscious for?"

"Not long," Seregeth shrugged. "Thirty minutes, maybe."

"Where is he?"

The man smiled as Legolas' eyes flicked nervously around the room. "Who? My friend?"

"Yes." The Elfling's voice was barely audible. "Him."

"Taras has returned to his home. Your violence rather put him off for the moment, although I daresay he will be back when you are not so temperamental," Seregeth replied. "That was some bite you gave him."

"And, why are you here now?" Legolas asked, his voice trembling even as he strove to control it. "Are you going to finish what he started?"

The mortal looked at his captive in silence for a moment, but then he shook his head once. "No. I do not use children for…that. I never have, nor will I ever."

"Then, you are a better man than your friend. Not much. But a bit," Legolas said quietly.

"There is something that I would speak of with you, because I think it fair that you have some advance warning," Seregeth began. "There are certain children who I do not keep after I have had them for a while– older ones, stronger ones, those who fight me and rebel. I take it you can see the reasoning behind that? You are yet young, and physically, you are not strong. But you have started to rebel recently, and I cannot have that."

"What are you saying?" Legolas asked softly.

"If your behaviour continues as it has, I will have no choice but to let you go," Seregeth replied, with a touch of regret in his voice. "I do not want to, but it will happen. Either I will sell you on for a high price, or commit something much more serious."

'_He would kill me,' _Legolas thought. Out loud, he said: "What happened to the other children? Did you sell them?"

"Some of them," Seregeth answered meaningfully. "It is up to you to decide your fate. Cease to rebel and you will remain here. Continue, and…I will get rid of you."

As his captor left the room, the Elfling pulled his knees up to his aching chest and hugged them close. His heart was hurting, his soul was shattered – he was broken, with nothing at all left to snap in half or crack down the middle. But despite all of this pain, no tears fell from his eyes. He did not even want to feel the strangely comforting drops of silver on his cheeks, those which had always reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still a part of Arda.

"I know why," Legolas murmured. "It is because I am dying, because I _want _to die. Death would be better than this. I am not afraid of it, and when it comes for me, I shall not fight it."

It was the truth. He knew that his only chance of escape was an everlasting one, one in which he would go to sleep and never again wake on Arda. Seregeth would be unable to abuse him. Taras would not touch him. And that was a small glimmer of comfort in the darkness of his grief. He would be free after what seemed to be a lifetime of torment and degradation.

As he let out a deep exhale of breath, Legolas' eyes fell upon his father's book; and his heart gave a painful twinge, as if reminding him what he would be leaving behind. But how could he leave behind something that he no longer had? After all, his parents were no longer a part of his physical life. They existed only in the hollows of his memory, and sometimes remembering them caused more pain than pleasure.

"They would understand. They would want me to go where I would be happy," the Elfling said slowly. "And leaving here does not mean that I love them any less. My love for them could never diminish, _never_. I just… I wish that I could see them again. One last time.

"I wonder if they would be proud of me if they could see me now. I hope so. All I ever wanted was to make them proud. And I wonder… With me gone, Ada will need another heir." Legolas was silent as he thought about a new child to take his place, but then he shook his head slowly. "No. I would not resent another Elfling. They deserve to be happy."

Outside the cottage, a solitary owl hooted. The sound was dismal, full of misery and grief. With a deep sigh, the boy eased himself up off the floor and walked towards the window, every small step enough to send excruciating bolts of agony through his injured body. But no recognition of the pain dawned on his face. He remained impassive, calm, yet still so tragic – a victim of ruthless abuse.

Legolas rested his arms on the windowsill, and stared up into the inky sky. The moon shone down at him like a large friendly face, but it elicited no smile from him. A single star was visible, and it was this that the child focused his eyes upon. It reminded him of himself – alone in a world full of dark, with only small rays of comfort to conceive light. But there was light nonetheless, and… Legolas closed his eyes.

A cloud had drifted over the star. The light was gone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**I'm so sorry for not updating sooner. I really did try to get it ready to post in the Christmas weekend, but there just wasn't time – I was working on Christmas Eve in the day, and then obviously it was Christmas Day after that, and then on Boxing Day I had family around. **

**I hope you all had a good Christmas, and I'll see you soon!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Elvish translations are at the bottom of the page.**

The next morning when Legolas' eyes snapped open, it was a sense of disappointment that filled him – disappointment that he had not yet been granted an escape. He was still alive, and that meant there was another day of his captor's cruel games to struggle through. Although, maybe it would not be so hard today. Maybe the knowledge that soon freedom would be his would give him enough strength to make it through the long hours of day until night arrived.

"I do not think that it will be much longer," the Elfling whispered, touching a hand to his chest as he wearily left his room. "I can feel it coming closer."

The front room was empty, though that did not come as a large surprise. It was very early, after all. Seregeth was probably still abed, and at least that gave Legolas some extra time to spend in solitude, before peace was shattered. He sat in one of the chairs at the table, and pulled a loaf of bread towards himself. Even as he started to unwrap the cloth covering it, he realised that he was not hungry at all.

Legolas broke off some bread, and nibbled at the crust. It tasted awful in his mouth, bitter and salty, and it was a struggle to swallow. He cast it a look of disdain, before throwing it on the floor for Mellon to eat. When it had disappeared, the dog looked up with hopeful brown eyes, and wagged his tail against the floor, sending dust particles flying upwards into the air.

"I will find you something more suitable to-

"Ah, you are awake."

Legolas raised only his eyes, and gave an imperceptible nod as his captor entered the front room. "Yes."

"Good. I will need you to do something for me presently," Seregeth said. He paused, his blue eyes fixed upon the silent child. Then they narrowed to slits. "You look unwell still. Was the medicine I gave you not up to royal standards, Your _Highness_?"

"Your medicines will not help me," Legolas said quietly, with a strange smile on his pale face. "I think that I am beyond help now, be it royal or common, mortal or Elven."

"Do you think that I am going to start treating you any differently?" Seregeth asked sharply. "I will not. You should know that the fact you are the son of a King makes no difference to me. Your title means nothing here. Your name means nothing."

"To you, no," Legolas replied, his voice soft. "But it is important to me, for it was the first gift my parents ever gave me. My name will mean a lot to me for as long as I live."

Seregeth curled his lip, and jerked a chair out from underneath the table. "Touching. But now I am afraid you must do some work, Your Highness, if that is not asking too much of you. It is cold today, and I have run out of firewood."

"What can I do about that?" Legolas questioned dully.

"You can either pick up my axe and chop some wood for me whilst I prepare my breakfast; or you can refuse to help me, and instead shut yourself in your room," Seregeth shrugged. "It is up to you. But I would advise you to remember what we spoke of last night before giving me an answer."

'_I am not going to let you kill me,' _Legolas thought derisively. _'I would die before letting you emerge victorious from this fight. I _will _die before letting you win.'_

"Well? What is it to be?"

"Where is the axe?"

Seregeth smiled, and nodded as though in approval. "Clever boy. The axe is embedded in the wood just outside the stables. It is heavy, but you will manage it. Remember that you are not finished until I say so."

"I did not forget."

"Off you go, then." As soon as the words left his lips, Seregeth's hand shot out, and he caught the back of the Elfling's tunic. "I will be watching you, boy. Any mistake you make, I will know about."

Legolas said nothing. He waited until the hold on his tunic had lessened before pulling himself away and leaving the cottage without a backward glance. The sun above seemed to flash a greeting at him; and as he drifted towards the woodpile by the stables, he wondered vaguely how everything around him could be so bright – the sun, the sky, the grass, the stream – when he felt only as though he was living in constant night.

Letting out a slow breath, the Elfling rested a hand on the axe handle, and pulled half heartedly. It did not move, although that was no surprise. He pulled again, a little harder. Nothing happened. Making a hissing noise of frustration through his teeth, Legolas turned away from the pile of wood, and walked instead to the stables. Aduial stuck her head over the door almost immediately.

"Did you hear me coming?" the boy asked softly, raising a hand to stroke the velvety nose. "You must have good hearing indeed."

The grey horse whickered in reply, and lowered her head further over the door. Pricking her ears, she nudged Legolas' cheek and snuffled at it, as though trying to give him a kiss. The child laughed hollowly, and gently pushed the large face away. Wide brown eyes merely stared back at him, unblinking.

"When an Elf's heart is broken by grief, it is a fatal injury," Legolas said quietly. "And that has happened to me, Aduial. I am starting to fade, I can feel it. Only three things can save me now: Valinor, a miracle, or death. Since the first two are impossible, it is the third on which I must rely. I am going to die, mellon-nin. I do not know when. But it will be soon, for I cannot live much longer with this pain. I came over here to say goodbye to you, just in case I never see you again."

Aduial was silent, listening with pricked ears to the soft voice that was filled with so much sadness and tragedy. Her eyes had darkened as though, not only was she listening, but she was understanding. She whickered again quietly, and bowed her head. Legolas let his hand rest on the grey nose for a few seconds longer, before turning back to the woodpile with a sigh. He had work to do, and he was being closely monitored.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the nearby market town, one of Seregeth's old prisoners had sought refuge in the home of a childless and elderly woman, and had been happily received. Upon arriving in the village in the late hours of the previous night, it was with some trepidation that Criltha had chosen a house at random, and knocked on the door. For the first time in more years than she could remember, luck had been with her.

The old woman had sent her to sleep in a large, warm bed; but not before feeding her a hearty meal of soup, meat and bread, and then insisting that she take a hot bath. The girl, of course, had refused none of this, feeling for the first time in her life that she was worth something, that she was special – and moreover, that she was free from any form of pain.

But the truth was that she was not free. Back in Seregeth's cottage was a little boy who was depending on her; and until he had escaped, Criltha would remain, in soul, a prisoner, still tied to her old life. Of this she had said nothing to the woman who had taken her in, nor had she made any effort to find someone who could give her help in freeing Legolas.

"And I do not think that I will."

Criltha's head snapped up in horror, and she stared unseeingly at the opposite wall of the room she had been given. Those words had no meaning. She had not even meant to say them. They only slipped out because… No. There _was_ meaning to them. She knew, deep down, that when she left this house, she would not return to Seregeth's, even for Legolas. She could not, _would _not risk her life of freedom.

The knowledge that this selfishness belonged to her pierced the girl's heart like an arrow; and she closed her eyes tightly against the accusing voice in her mind which told her that she was jeopardising the life of a little boy who was relying on her to do the exact opposite. But she could not return. There were just too many risks, and they were not risks that she was prepared to take.

"Sacrifices have to be made in life," she murmured. "Legolas is one of those sacrifices. He has to be, otherwise I could forever be captive."

_But what if everything runs smoothly? What if you find someone willing to fight against Seregeth, and set the child free?_

"What if I do not?" Criltha countered aloud. She was still for a moment, but then she shook her head just once. "I have made my decision. I will-

The door to her room opened, and the elderly woman bustled in with a tray clutched tightly in her gnarled hands. "Good morning, my dear. The sun has already risen, but I thought I should let you lie abed a while longer," she said cheerfully. "I have brought you your breakfast: porridge, preserve, and fruit. Eat it all, mind. You are too thin. Too thin by far."

"Thank you for all of this," Criltha said with a small smile. "I appreciate everything that you have done, more than you can know."

"Think nothing of it," the woman replied. She paused, and looked down at the girl through beady black eyes. "But, what will you do now?"

"Excuse me?"

"I will gladly have you here for as long as you wish – the company would be a nice treat for me. But you are a young woman, and surely you do not want to remain cooped up here for ever," the elder mortal answered. "So, what will you do?"

"To be honest I have already given thought to that, and I have come to a decision. It was not an easy one to reach for certain reasons which I cannot speak of even to a friend," Criltha sighed. "But nonetheless, I have reached it."

"And?"

The girl raised her eyes, and they glinted with a sudden decisiveness. "I will stay here for one more night, if I may. And then in the early hours of the morning, I will leave this town and all of its memories behind."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Do you think, then, that you imagined those screams?" Elrohir glanced across at his brother, and held the identical gaze. "Only, you did not hear them last night, and you have not yet told me what you think of that."

Elladan shrugged, and dropped his reins to drink from his water skin. "I do not know. But I have decided to think no more of it. Either I heard them and they were nothing at all, or I did not hear them and I am going mad. If it is the latter, I am sure that upon returning to Imladris, Adar will ply me with medicine in an attempt to restore my sanity."

Elrohir smiled his agreement, but said nothing. He had sat up all last night with his twin as promised, and after their already long journey, he wanted rest. But they had left their campsite early that morning, and were riding along a dusty road, closeted between clusters of tall trees on either side. Birds trilled, leaves rustled, running water trickled unseen somewhere close. The noises were enough to lull a tired Elf into sleep – until another's voice broke into the peace.

"How did that happen?"

"What?" Elrohir sighed.

"My water skin was full only a minute ago, but now it is empty. How strange," Elladan replied in annoyance. "Now I suppose I will have to wait for a whole age before we stop again."

"Glorfindel!"

The blonde Elf said something under his breath to Asfaloth, and the horse stopped at once. "What is it?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

"My idiot brother," Elrohir answered.

"All of my water has gone," Elladan said apologetically. "I did not mean to drink it, I just…did. But it doesn't matter. I will be fine until we come across a lake or pool."

Glorfindel shook his head, and levelled the younger Elf with a green stare. "No. Listen carefully, and you will hear a stream though the trees on our left. Make use of resources when they are available, for you can never know when they will become so again. Go and fill your water skin. Elrohir, you too. I will wait here."

The twins dismounted their horses in unison, and stepped off the road. The trees went back further than they had initially thought – indeed, it was a large copse they walked through; and as they stepped over fallen logs or ducked underneath hanging branches, both Elves realised that traps of some sort – perhaps for rabbits – were dotted around on the leafy floor. Elrohir looked at them in surprise for a moment, before glancing at his brother.

"Strange," he said quietly.

"Maybe. Or it could be that there are many animals in this wooded area, and people from the neighbouring towns have set these traps," Elladan replied. "After all, they need to eat. And I expect that they can sell the meat also, or pass it on."

"It feels funny," Elrohir murmured. "The traps to me are ominous. Perhaps we should not be here. I would feel safer if we-

Elladan's hand suddenly shot out, and he grabbed his twin's arm, eyes wide. "Look! Through those trees!"

"Valar, someone lives here? I was right – we should leave. I do not want to be caught trespassing," Elrohir answered. "Come, let us go."

"No. Look."

Both Elves stared through the dense trees, their eyes trained upon the small cottage made of wood, and the roof of yellow thatch. Beside it was a stone outhouse which had been converted into two stables – one held a grey horse; the other appeared to be empty. A stream was a little way before the buildings, and it sparkled as the sun shone down upon it – this must be what Glorfindel had heard and directed them to.

However, the attention of the twins did not remain on this seemingly idyllic scene for very long. Just by the stables sat blocks of firewood, with a hefty axe embedded into one of them. A small blonde boy of no more than eight summers pulled desperately at the handle of the axe, planting his feet firmly on the ground and working hard to find a better grip. It looked as though he was fighting a losing battle.

Elladan laughed softly at the child's futile efforts. "Why is he still trying? He is only wasting his time."

"He is very determined," Elrohir said with a smile, "but not destined for success on this occasion. I wish he would accept defeat. If he continues to strain himself so, he will cause an injury."

"Maybe we should help him," Elladan suggested.

"Yes, I…" Elrohir laughed as the blonde child turned away in frustration, and sat down on the grassy floor. "Ah, he has given up at last. Good. Come, then. Let us go and help him to-

"Look," Elladan cut in softly. "Reinforcements have arrived."

The twins watched from behind a tree as a tall, dark figure stepped out from the cottage, and walked silently towards the woodpile. He jerked the axe free with no effort; and holding it in one strong hand, stepped behind the child, who had noticed nothing. Icy blue eyes glinted cruelly in a tanned face, and the lips turned upwards in a sneer. Elladan and Elrohir could only watch in horror as the man swung the axe blade into the ground only a hair's breadth away from the boy's hand.

"Shirking your duties, are you? Too good for them?" the mortal spat. "Maybe I should have cut your hand off for that. You are lucky that I did not."

"But I-

"Hold your tongue!"

Elrohir closed his eyes as a fist sent the little boy flying backwards, but Elladan was too shocked by the horrific display of violence against such a small creature to look away. As blows rained down upon the unprotected body, his eyes filled with tears so that everything – the raging man, the injured child, even the tree he was leaning against for support – was blurred. He did not even notice the distortions.

"Make it stop," Elrohir whispered. "Valar, do not let it go on. Stop. Stop."

His hand drifted towards his belt, and he unconsciously curled his fingers around the handle of his throwing knife. Fuelled by the sounds of heavy breathing, childish whimpers, and the harsh noises of someone being struck repeatedly, he loosened the blade. Beside him, Elladan was oblivious.

"Stop, stop," he repeated in a panicked whisper.

His knife was free. With eyes still tightly closed, he raised a trembling hand into the air, desperate to halt the abuse, to halt the one inflicting it. But as he prepared to throw the weapon, strong fingers wrapped around his wrist, and pulled him sharply away from the tree. He snapped his eyes open, and they looked into the pale face of Glorfindel. He shook his head slowly, still horrified.

"Make it stop," he breathed. "Please…"

"Come with me," the seneschal whispered. "Elladan, you too. Elladan!"

He pushed the frightened twins back the way they had come, casting a look of hate over his shoulder as he followed them. Both man and child were oblivious to the fact that they had been watched from the copse, so caught up in their rage and pain were they. But the cruel beating seemed to be over. As Glorfindel turned away, the elder human spat at the boy, and stalked back towards the cottage.

As soon as they were on the road, Elrohir sank onto the dusty ground and buried his face in his hands, whilst Elladan merely shook his head, still unable to speak. He felt familiar hands on his shoulders; and as they pushed him down to sit beside his brother, he did not resist. He simply looked up and held Glorfindel's green gaze with his own grey one, silently asking questions.

"I do not know," the seneschal replied gravely. "But what I _do_ know is this: that child who we saw through the trees is no mortal. He is an Elf."

"An Elf?" Elladan whispered.

"He was struggling to protect himself. As he covered his head, his hair moved and I saw his ears. They were Elven. But I did not need to see them to know. I just…saw _him _and knew. It was in his eyes more than anything," Glorfindel said quietly. "He is an Elf, that I would stake my life on."

"What is that scum doing with a child of the Firstborn?" Elrohir spat. He slammed his knife back into his belt, and glared through the trees. "If you had come any later, Glorfindel, I would have…I…" He trailed off, and shook his head helplessly.

The elder Elf nodded, and rested a hand on one of the shaking shoulders. "I understand."

"Whoever the child may be, we cannot leave him with that man," Elladan said vehemently. "We _cannot_. Glorfindel, even if you tell us not to attempt to rescue him, we will have no choice but to disobey you. Neither I nor Elrohir will leave this place without him."

"I am glad to hear it."

"What?"

Glorfindel gave a brief smile. "Even if the boy was not an Elf, I would try my hardest to rescue him. No-one should ever have to live such a life of pain, especially not a child. Have some of my water, both of you, to calm yourselves. I will decide on a plan."

"What plan do we need?" Elladan asked skeptically. "We can just go in, grab the child, and-

"We do need a plan," Elrohir cut in quietly. "There may be others in the cottage. Seregeth may-

"Seregeth?"

"I heard the Elfling call him that."

Glorfindel nodded slowly as a strategy began to form in his mind. "Good. That knowledge will aid us, I believe. It will aid us greatly."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Seregeth sat at his table, and gripped Legolas' face tightly in his hands, examining the newly acquired cuts and bruises which coloured the previously pale skin in shades of black and blue, purple and red, yellow. The Elfling was still, wincing only occasionally as a sensitive wound was pressed upon or squeezed too tightly. His upper lip was split and caked with blood, the lower pierced by his own teeth. From his left eye he could barely see, and his right was only slightly better. It was a miracle that no bones had been broken. One of his front teeth, however, had been knocked out; and his first thought upon realising this was that he would receive no pennies for the loss.

"Since the day of your arrival here, I have failed to understand you," Seregeth said quietly, wiping away a faint line of blood with his sleeve. "Whether that is because you are of a different race, I do not know."

"What don't you understand?" Legolas blinked in surprise as he spoke. The gap in his teeth had given him a slight lisp. Part of him wanted to laugh at that, but the situation wasn't really funny at all, he told himself sharply.

"You enjoy pain," Seregeth replied. "You must do."

"No. But you enjoy inflicting it," Legolas said. "I do not like being hurt at all, but there is nothing I can do to stop it."

The mortal smiled at the lisp, and pressed a nail into one of the child's cuts. It elicited no cries, no whimpers. "You are strong, that I must give to you. I have underestimated the Elves, it seems, for if they are anything like you, they must be folk of strength indeed."

"They are," Legolas answered quietly. "And I am proud to reflect some of that strength, although I can never hope to reflect it all."

"If I am honest, I thought that you would break after only a few weeks," Seregeth continued. "But you proved me wrong. In fact, I am unsure that you have yet broken altogether. I feel as though there is a little more to you."

The child smiled humourlessly, and shook his head once. "No. I will not deny that you _have _succeeded in breaking me. You did that last night, when you tried to force Taras upon me – and I feel no shame in admitting that I am broken, because few Elves could withstand such an assault. But this does not mean that you have won. I am still alive, so the battle still goes on. If I should die – by your hand alone – then victory will be yours."

Seregeth was silent for a moment, but then he laughed softly. "You sound like an adult. Your words are no longer childlike and naïve. Your experience here has aged your mind."

"It should not be so," Legolas replied in a low voice. "If I had never met you, I would still be as a young Elf should. I would be innocent, rightly blind to pain, fear and grief. I would laugh with my friends, compete in archery tournaments, attend feasts and parties, spend evenings with my mother and father where I would feel safe and loved. But I did meet you. I am here."

"It could have been any Elf," Seregeth murmured. "Any Elf could have been taken by Amarth, but it was you. Fate must have led you to him."

"Maybe. I-

There was a sharp tap on the door to the cottage, and the mortal's head snapped up quickly. Legolas' eyes flickered, but he kept them fixed on the floor, waiting for something to happen. Silence reigned in the small home for a time; but when another knock came, Seregeth jumped to his feet with a hiss of anger, and pushed his prisoner out of the way. The boy steadied himself on the back of a chair, and watched, wondering who was outside, what they wanted.

Seregeth stalked to the door and wrenched it open, his eyes flashing. "Who are you, and what is your business here? This land belongs to me, and you are trespassing. Speak!"

"Please, I mean no harm." The hooded stranger inclined briefly in respect, and continued: "I come here because there are rumours in the town – rumours that a man called Seregeth who goes by your description is keeping a child. In that area, I have…some interest, you might say."

"Where did you hear these rumours?" Seregeth snapped. "When?"

"In the inn, last night," the stranger replied. "They have yet to spread far, if that is a worry of yours. And few will pay heed to them, for they were started by a drunken man who made little sense, and-

"Taras," Seregeth growled. "Was it he?"

The hooded figure hesitated, and then shook his head slowly. "That I cannot tell you. I was not listening for his name, so he may have been called anything. And as I said, he was making little sense."

"Was his left hand bandaged, or bleeding?"

"I… Yes, now that you mention it. I assumed he had gotten involved in a drunken brawl," the stranger shrugged. "But that is irrelevant. What I want to know is this: do you have a child? An Elf-child? Say no, and I will leave you in peace."

"You mentioned you have 'an area of interest'. Of what sort? Do you sell children? Keep them as slaves? Or are you similar to my friend Taras? Do you prefer to use them for other purposes?" Seregeth asked softly. There was only silence, and he took that as confirmation to his question. "I see. Perhaps I should welcome you into my home, then. Perhaps I should provide you with what you seek."

"So, you do have a child," the stranger pressed sharply. "One of Elf-kind? That is rare. I should very much like to…see him."

"Your name," Seregeth said suddenly. "Who are you?"

"I have an identity to protect," the hooded one replied in a low voice. "In return, I will keep your secret – for that is what I perceive you want it to be – and I will also dispel any rumours that are flying."

There was silence for a minute, but then the man nodded, and opened the door a little wider. "Very well, it is agreed. Come in. You shall meet the child of whom Taras spoke. He is… Boy! Show yourself."

Letting out a deep breath, Legolas stepped away from the protection of the table and chairs, and looked down at the floor. He could feel the familiar icy eyes upon him, and others also. They were hidden by a hood, but despite that, he thought that… No, he felt sure that they were gentle, without the malice or cruelty that he had become so used to. For some strange reason, he felt a vague sense of reassurance.

"You have not forgotten Taras," Seregeth said softly to the captive. "Nor have you forgotten that you prevented him from doing what he wanted last night. But we are in luck. Another has come to take his place, and he will not fail. Will you, my friend?"

The stranger looked up, and gave an imperceptible shake of his head. "No. I will not fail."

"Very good. Do not be afraid to use violence against the boy if he needs to be disciplined. He understands little but pain," Seregeth advised. "You may use that room on our right for as long as is needed."

Without a word, the hooded figure rested a hand on Legolas' shoulder, and pushed him gently but firmly towards the room. Blue eyes pierced his back, but he paid no heed to them. He was not afraid. All he could possibly feel at that moment was anger, an anger of such intensity that it threatened to overflow inside of him; and only his own nails digging deep into his palm kept him grounded.

"Go in," he said softly to the little boy.

Legolas entered and went straight over to stand beside the window; but as he closed the door on Seregeth, the stranger leaned against it and breathed deeply for a minute, his eyes shut tightly behind the grey hood. His whole body was shaking in rage, but he had to control it, he had to control all of his emotions for the sake of the abused child standing before him.

After what seemed to both an eternity, the hooded one took a step forwards, and said quietly: "Avo 'osto, penneth. Telin le thaed."

Legolas spun, and stared in a mixture of fear and wonder. "You speak the Elvish language," he whispered. "You speak it well, as an Elf would. But, what do you mean? What do you mean by your words?"

"You are soon going to be very shocked, but I beg of you: make no noise that could alert the man," the stranger replied in a low voice. "Can you do that?"

"Who are you?"

Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then a slender hand snaked up, and pushed back the hood. It fell away to reveal long black hair, ears with a delicate point to them, and grey eyes that were bright in a pale face unmarred by the passing of seasons. It was an Elf. Legolas drew in a sharp breath, but spoke no words. He could only stare as his mind whirled and tripped over all of the burning questions that were suddenly conceived. He shook his head slowly, and blinked as though trying to correct his vision.

"I will not disappear," the Elf said softly. "At least, not for a few minutes. And when I do, I will not be alone."

"Who are you?" Legolas breathed.

"My name is Elladan, son of Lord Elrond of Imladris," the other replied. "I doubt you will have heard of me, but perhaps you know of my father? His name should be of reassurance to you, if mine is not."

The Elfling exhaled deeply, and passed a hand through his hair. "The fact that you are of my kind is reassurance enough, but I do not know why you are here. In fact, I fear that I am dreaming it. Living here, I have learnt not to trust hope, for it often is no more than my mind."

"So I imagine," Elladan said quietly. "But this is no trick of your mind. I am here, and with help from my brother and our friend, we are going to get you away from this life."

Legolas slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor; and as Mellon crawled into his lap, his eyes did not leave the elder Elf's. "But I do not understand. How did you know that I was here? And what made you want to help me?"

"My brother and I witnessed the mortal's treatment of you when we came to get water from the stream," Elladan replied bitterly. "As for the second question, it does not need answering."

"I need to know, to understand."

The elder Elf looked up in surprise, saying nothing. But when the younger only continued to look at him, he said: "That man beat you. I imagine that he has done so many times before, and would do so many times after. Your face is covered in bruises and cuts, and there are a lot more hidden underneath your clothes. Is that not so?"

"It is, but…" Legolas looked away. "Can I really trust you? This is not another game of Seregeth's."

"No." Elladan took a step forwards, and knelt before the little boy. "It is no game. Look into my face, penneth. Do you see lies? Cruelty? Deceit? Malice? Tell me. Do you?"

"I see…none of that," Legolas whispered. Tears pricked at his eyes, and some fell, stinging his cuts. He did not even notice them. "Are you going to take me away from here? Away from him?"

"Yes."

"For weeks I hoped and prayed that something like this would happen to me, that I would be rescued from this life of pain and humiliation. I thought that after a while, my father would turn up. And he did, every night in my dreams," the Elfling murmured. "But then I gave up hope. Because, what was the point of hoping when this was destined to be my life?"

"Who is your father?"

"He…I-

There was an almighty crash from outside the small room, as of a door being kicked open. Legolas jumped to his feet in horror, but Elladan rested a hand on his shoulder, keeping him still. There were shouts and yells of rage from Seregeth, but there were two other voices heard in the confusion – lower, softer. Yet they were filled with no less anger than the mortal's.

"Your friend and brother?" Legolas asked softly.

"Yes, they have come," Elladan replied, watching the closed door. "It is not safe for us – or you, at least – to go out there yet, so we must wait. Then, we will… What are you doing?"

The Elfling had broken free of the grip he was held in, and was going towards his mattress. A small, leather bound book lay on top of it, and he grabbed it up to his chest, saying: "This I cannot leave. I promised to look after it."

"And so you will," Elladan said, slightly surprised at the vehemence in the words. "What of the dog, penneth? Does he belong to you? Only, I fear that it would be impractical to take him with us."

"He has been my only real friend," Legolas murmured. "Apart from Criltha, but she has gone. Leaving him here will hurt, but if bringing him will cause trouble, he must stay."

"I-

"Elladan!"

The dark haired Elf looked up, and took the child's hand in his own. "Come, that was my brother. It is time to get you out of here."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Avo'osto. Telin le thaed: **Fear not. I have come to help you.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thank you all for your lovely reviews, they always mean a lot to me! I hope you're still enjoying the story, and I really hope that the last chapter wasn't too much for any of you. I know what my limits are where the rules of this website are concerned, and I also know what my limits are within the rating that I have given to this story, and I haven't overstepped them. I know that some readers are younger, and I take that into account when writing particularly nasty stuff. I'm saying this just in case the last chapter upset anyone.

The next chapter will be up in the next week!

Misto

x-x


	16. Chapter 16

Elrohir stepped to the side of the room, and watched through narrowed eyes as Glorfindel tied Seregeth to a wooden beam that came down from the ceiling to the floor. "Make sure the rope is nice and tight around him, so that he cannot escape. Scum like him should not be allowed to walk over Middle-Earth."

"Damned Elves," Seregeth spat. "I should have known that the cavalry would arrive sooner or later. But you took your time in coming. Is the boy really so little cared for?"

"Careful. When you are being tied to a pole by an irate Elf-lord, you would be wise not to anger him further," Glorfindel advised serenely, as he walked in circles around the man, wrapping the rope around him.

"Curse you!" Seregeth struggled against the bindings, but they were Elven, and his strength was no match for them. "Curse you both to Mordor and back. You will pay for this, for this insolence!"

"We will not," Elrohir said quietly. "You, however, will pay for the hurt you have done to that child. You could never hope to get away with it. If we had not passed your cottage, other Elves would have eventually. And perhaps they would have done worse to you than this. Valar knows you deserve it."

Glorfindel knelt behind the man's back, and knotted the rope. "There. Finished. You are a captive, my friend, and likely to remain so until some kind soul finds you and takes pity. Elrohir, call your brother. We are leaving."

"Elladan!"

Nothing happened for a moment or so, and the tense silence was broken only by Seregeth's heavy breathing as he continued to struggle helplessly against his bonds. But then a door opened, and another dark haired Elf stepped into the room, leading the child by the hand. Glorfindel and Elrohir both narrowed their eyes as they looked upon the wounds, and the latter had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from snapping at the man.

Legolas' gaze drifted first of all to the other two Elves, but it was swift to flick towards Seregeth. He took in the ropes, the useless fight against them; and said nothing. He could only watch. Blue eyes pierced his own, threatening and menacing as ever, yet at the same time asking for help. He did not move. His mind seemed to have stopped working, for he did not know how the sight of his once captor now imprisoned made him feel. Relieved? Happy? Triumphant? Safe? None of those?

"Take the child outside," Glorfindel instructed softly. "Get him out of this man's sight."

Elladan started to move towards the door, but a cold voice suddenly cut in: "Stay where you are, boy."

Legolas froze, staring in horror at Seregeth. How had that happened? He tried to move again, but flashing eyes pinned him to the spot. How was it that even though the mortal could no longer touch him, he could still exert such power and control? It was not right. Escape was close, so close…and yet so far. The Elfling was still a prisoner. He always would be whilst Seregeth was near.

"Come with me," Elladan murmured, tugging gently at the small hand. "You are safe from him, penneth. We will not let him touch you."

"Stay," the man growled.

"Let me go," Legolas whispered. "You have lost, Seregeth, because I have been given a way out. Just let go of your hold over me. Do not delay your defeat, for it is inevitable now."

"Are you going to leave me here, tied up with no defence and no food or water? I am surprised. I never thought you had it in you. I never thought you would be guilty of murder," Seregeth said softly.

"I am not," Legolas replied. "Nor are they."

Glorfindel pulled a knife from his belt, and threw it onto the table. It was a few feet from Seregeth – within reach, yet difficult to get to whilst tied so. "There. The child is right – we are not guilty of murder. Nor are we completely heartless. If you reach the blade, by all means free yourself. But it will take you a while, I am sure."

"Your generosity overwhelms me," Seregeth spat. He snapped his eyes towards Legolas, and glared at him. "You may well be escaping me now, but that will not free you. I will always be with you, in spirit at least. And one day…one day I will find you again."

Emerald eyes flashing, Glorfindel stepped forwards and lifted the little boy into his arms. He held him lightly – aware that the clothes could be disguising many other wounds of more danger than those adorning the pale face – but at the same time firmly, hoping that the hold would offer some comfort. And then without further words, he turned on his heel and left the cottage, ignoring the noises of anger coming from the mortal inside. All that was on his mind now, was getting the Elfling to safety.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The company that had left Mirkwood rode in silence. No words had passed between them since the King's awful revelation of the night before – that he finally feared his son was dead was painful to all of them. Even the horses seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Their ears lay flat against their heads, and it was often that they whinnied to each other mournfully. Thalion was a witness to the grief of the immortals, and strangely, he found it hurting his own heart.

Though really, that was not to be wondered at. Sadness emanated from the Elves as intensely as anything else - love, happiness, laughter – or perhaps even more so. He could almost feel the grief before him; it was as though it was there in physical form, within reach to touch. For the first time in many years, he had felt the sting of tears in his eyes, an aching lump at the back of his throat. It came often, and was hard to dispel.

"Thalion, this way."

"What?"

Alondir smiled sadly, and nudged the other's mount back into a straight line. "You were caught up in thoughts. Your horse took advantage of your lapse in concentration, and was starting to wonder away."

"Oh." Thalion shook his head slowly as they fell back in with the group. "Forgive me, I just…I felt so strange."

"I do not doubt that. We are all grieving for the possible loss of our Prince; and when Elves grieve…" Alondir fell silent for a moment, and sighed deeply. "When Elves grieve, it is felt – especially by mortals, as they are not accustomed to such strong emotions and feelings. It was bound to affect you."

"I feel sad, as though I can never again know happiness," Thalion murmured. "Even more so when I am near the King."

Alondir looked up and watched as Thranduil rode alone, a way ahead of the group. "Of course. Does that surprise you?"

"No," the man replied softly. "And yet I wonder…he believes his son is dead. Why then, are we continuing towards our original destination? Why is he adamant that we must go there before returning to Mirkwood?"

"Is it not clear?" The Elf held the mortal's eyes, and spoke in a low voice: "Death may take souls, but it leaves bodies. If Legolas has passed on, the Valar would not be cruel enough to leave his mother and father without a body to bury. Whatever else they have done, they would _not_ be that cruel."

Thalion looked away, and let out a deep breath. "We arrive at the cottage tomorrow. If there is no body there, what then?"

"The search for my Prince will end. My Queen will sail to Valinor, and my King…" Alondir paused, loath to say the words. But they came spilling out nonetheless, as though of their own will. "The royal family will be no more. _Mirkwood _will be no more. Our fates will be decided soon."

A way ahead of the company, Thranduil pulled his attention away from the conversation between Alondir and Thalion, though there was little else to give it to. He did so not because the words angered and embittered him, but because he knew, as so many others did, that they were true. The next few days were crucial not only to himself and his remaining family, but the whole realm.

If Legolas was not found on this final journey, Laerwen would sail. With both his wife and child taken from him, Thranduil would not tarry in Middle-Earth. There would be nothing left for him. But that could well prove to be the downfall of Mirkwood, as Alondir had implied – after all, the current ruler was the greatest King yet, greater even than Oropher had been; and it was through his power alone that evil had yet to reach the stronghold of the Elves.

Of course, another King could be chosen by the people of the realm, but it was inevitable that whoever they elected – be he a councillor with qualities of diplomacy and leadership, or a warrior of great strength whose fighting abilities were renowned – could not equal Thranduil as a ruler, for he was both a leader and a fighter. Little did he know it, but this was just one of the whispers spreading through the Elven country in his absence.

'_How could I leave Mirkwood?' _Thranduil wondered silently. _'The truth is that without me, it would fall. And I cannot let that happen. My father did not lead us there and build the kingdom so that I could destroy it. There is no-one else who knows how to rule over a land infested by darkness. Would they be able to maintain peace?'_

He already knew the answer to that: no. He was a young ruler, and in comparison to Celeborn of Lórien and Elrond of Imladris, a new one. But he had always been prepared for the worse. At the end of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, many had celebrated and rejoiced that Sauron had been destroyed. But not Thranduil. He alone had known that victory would not last. And so he had prepared himself to rule a country of darkness lest his foresight be correct. And so it was, after a millennium. He had been given years to make himself ready, and it was because of this that he was a great King. No-one could do what he had in a few days.

'_Kings are not permitted to be guilty of selfishness,' _Thranduil thought bitterly. But then he exhaled, and closed his eyes. _'I could not be guilty of that anyway. I love my people. I cannot desert them. Though I will grieve, for them I must stay and be strong. I-_

As a black feathered arrow struck the ground near his horse's hooves, the Elf cursed violently and instinctively whipped out his twin knives. His eyes flashed to the left and right of the road, searching in the foliage for any sign of the Orcs – it had to be them. Further down the road, Thalion and the group of warriors cantered forwards, but they were not even close to the King when another arrow shot from the trees, and slammed into his horse's side. The animal's legs buckled, and Thranduil jumped to the ground with a noise of anger.

"Show yourselves," he hissed. "Leave your hiding places, scum."

"Behind you!" Alondir shouted.

The Elven soldiers had notched arrows, but Thranduil had already spun and hewn a hideous head from a black body. Orcs were spilling out of the trees by the dozen, shouting with their harsh voices, and laughing. Many were shot down, but the others crowded around the Elf fighting on his own and started an attack on him, as though the charging company of warriors was not there.

The horses galloped into the fray, and Thalion swung his sword in wide arcs, slashing it across throats, stabbing through chests, removing limbs. Black blood sprayed over him, but he paid little attention to it. In fact, he even paid little attention to how he fought, for his eyes were instead fixed upon Thranduil, who had not seemed to have realised that help had come.

He spun and whirled in the small circle that the Orcs surrounding him had created, pushing aside blows and blocking them with a vambraced arm; ducking scimitars and rising to decapitate a black creature; fighting with all the skill of a ruthless assassin. As it had been on the night of his fight with Thalion, the Elven-king moved effortlessly and calmly, though this time his eyes betrayed his emotions. Naturally icy, now they were blazing with weeks of built up anger, hate and grief as he struck down his foes.

"The King," one of the soldiers hissed. "Why is no-one protecting him?"

"Stay where you are," Thalion said sharply, impaling an Orc on his blade. "He is looking after himself well enough. Stay here and take care of yourself."

Alondir nodded as the man caught his eye. It was true, after all. He idly sliced his knife through the dark chest of an enemy, and a second later, felled two of the creatures with just one blow. And that was it. He was alone. Only a few Orcs living remained on the road, but he left those to the other soldiers – they were easily beatable – and went towards Thranduil.

The blonde Elf was standing in the middle of around ten slain Orcs, uninjured and seemingly unaware that he had been approached. But then he spoke quietly, his voice dripping with quiet hatred. "They killed my horse," he murmured.

"What?"

"My horse. They killed her." Thranduil stepped to the side of the road, and knelt to wipe black blood off his blades in the grass. "You would think that taking my wife and only child was enough, but apparently not. The Valar saw fit to send Orcs after us so that they can kick me whilst I am down. Why?"

"You stopped asking questions after the first day," Alondir said quietly. "Do not start again. You will only torment yourself."

"I am a good Elf. I am a good _King_. I thought that I was a good husband and father, but evidently I was wrong, because I am being punished for something. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot think what I could possibly have done to displease the Valar so much that they cannot even leave me a damn animal!" Thranduil threw his knives to the floor at the last word, and flicked flashing eyes towards the sky. "There is no justice to this. They cannot send me a sign to hint at what I have done."

Alondir exhaled, and stepped forwards to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yes, it is unjust. But not your fault. The Valar are not punishing you for any crime. You are guilty of nothing, and deep down, you know that."

Even if Thranduil had wanted to give a reply, the approach of Thalion would have stopped him. The mortal was silent as he sheathed his blade, just watching the Elves, debating whether or not he should speak, or allow one of them to do so first. But no speech was forthcoming from either of them. Sighing, he looked around at the fallen Orcs.

"Forgive the interruption. I thought you should know that I have asked the men to start piling the bodies," he said softly. "I hope you do not mind, only…"

"No, someone had to assume command," Alondir replied. "Anything else?"

"We lost no-one and received no casualties. A few wounds, but nothing more," Thalion reported. "And yourselves?"

"Uninjured." The commander paused, and glanced sideways at the King. "The second arrow felled Thranduil's horse. Had we been on our guard, perhaps it could have been avoided. As it is, I think all of our minds were elsewhere, which is understandable. But unacceptable. This cannot happen again. Next time, we may not be so lucky."

"It will not happen again," Thalion vowed.

"It is all very well saying that, but if it does…" Alondir shrugged, and sheathed his sword. "Any warrior I see lacking in alertness, I will send back home. That includes you two, regardless of whether you are a King or not of Mirkwood's troops."

"Acceptable," Thranduil said quietly. "But can you send yourself home?"

The commander laughed softly, though there was little humour to it. "I will give you that one, mellon-nin, I will give you that. But you do imply the truth, even if you do not speak it. I am as much to blame as anyone else, and that I will not dispute. When the road has been cleared, I will say exactly this to the soldiers. Until then, we need to decide what to do about the loss of the horse."

"Thranduil, you can have the one that I was lent from Mirkwood," Thalion volunteered. "We passed a human settlement this morning if you remember. It is about a league back from here, so a few of the others can ride there and buy another animal. It will take a few hours, but there is no other way as far as I can see."

"It will delay us," Thranduil said immediately.

"And so will having one of us walk."

The King let out a sharp breath of frustration, and flicked his hand at Thalion. "Go, then. Be back here as soon as possible – I want to reach this mortal's home by no later than nightfall tomorrow."

"May the Valar speed you," Alondir said quietly.

Thranduil looked sharply at the commander, his eyes cold. "They are no longer on our side. Until they are, I will not be relying on their help and blessing as I once did. You should heed that, Alondir. If you do not, you will be sorely disappointed."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Upon leaving the cottage in the copse, Glorfindel had returned with Legolas and the twins to the cave that had given them previous shelter, forsaking the nearby towns. He knew well that not all mortals were evil, but after dealing with Seregeth's cruelty, the seneschal's current inclination was to trust only his own race, especially where the rescued Elfling was concerned.

Luckily, although Legolas' wounds were many and painful, they were at least external, only cuts and bruises that could be treated with the correct medication and a bit of time. Broken bones would have complicated matters, but despite the fact that they were not an issue, Glorfindel could not help but feel as though there was a pain that ran deeper in the child than outward appearances suggested. But he said nothing of it for the moment, concentrating instead on helping to ease Legolas' discomfort.

"Do you need anything, Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked softly.

The Elf-lord looked up from his ministrations, and nodded once. "Some more water, I think. Heat it up when you return, and crush some athelas into it. I will need it for the child's chest and back in a minute or so."

"Can I do anything?" Elladan asked, as his twin left the cave. "I do not like sitting idly by."

"You have done enough," Glorfindel replied with a brief smile. "But I will let you know."

As a cloth covered in a strange herb pressed at one of the cuts on his face, Legolas pulled away slightly. "I am grateful to you for doing this, my Lord, and I cannot thank you enough for taking me away from Seregeth. But you do not need to heal me. I am well."

"Well? You most certainly are not," Glorfindel replied. "And if you think for one minute that I am going to leave you like this, you are very much mistaken."

"What I meant was that my wounds were never treated before. I had no choice but to let them heal on their own, because Seregeth would not…" The Elfling looked away, and exhaled. "They always healed without medication."

"Then you were lucky," Elladan said softly. "Any one of them could have been infected, and you would not have known of it. That is why Glorfindel is treating your current wounds – to prevent possible infection and further pain. It is for the best, even if you cannot see that."

"Are you all healers?" Legolas asked.

"Not by profession. I am many things," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I am a warrior, an advisor to Lord Elrond, his seneschal, his appointed mentor and weaponry tutor for the twins, and also a healer."

"Then, you must be talented indeed, my Lord," the Elfling murmured.

"Please, it is just Glorfindel."

Legolas looked up as Elrohir came back into the cave. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I have been talking too much as it is. Seregeth often told me that he tired of my voice, so you must have also by now."

"You can never talk too much," Elrohir said. He glanced up from where he was heating the water over the fire, and smiled. "Especially when Elladan and I are near."

"All too true, I am afraid," Glorfindel sighed. "But all jokes aside, you must try and forget what that man said and did to you. I know it will be hard to push something like that from your mind, but what you have to know is that he was wrong to treat you in the way that he did."

"I displeased him often," Legolas said in a low voice. "I was not well behaved."

"Elrohir and I are not well behaved, but no-one would even consider hurting us so," Elladan said, hoping to elicit a smile from the Elfling. None came.

"But it was Seregeth's way of punishing-

"No. Do not try and justify what he did to you, because it is something that should never, _never _have happened," the seneschal cut in, pressing a finger lightly to the child's lips. "He hurt you, penneth. He held you prisoner. He tried to take away your life and keep it for himself, and…and that is wrong. It is _so _wrong. I understand that you are still afraid of him. You are, is that not so?"

"He said that he would come after me," Legolas whispered.

Glorfindel shook his head slowly. "But you are safe now. You are with me. And believe me when I say that I would die before failing to protect you. You are free from him; and you should take comfort in that."

"I…I don't…" The little boy looked up at the roof of the cave, and blinked a few times to banish the tears which had gathered. "I mean, thank you."

"The athelas is ready," Elrohir said quietly. He placed the pot at Glorfindel's side, and offered a small smile to the Elfling. "This will help you, penneth. It may not feel very nice at first, but it is a herb that is often used in healing. My father swears by it."

"Your father is Lord Elrond," Legolas said quietly.

As Glorfindel removed the child's tunic, a fluent string of curses came close to leaving his lips, so he replied for Elrohir to halt them: "Yes, he is their father. Why, do you know him?"

"No, but I know of him," Legolas replied slowly. "He came to see my father once, but I do not remember the visit. It was some years back. I was very young."

'_You still are,' _Glorfindel thought sadly, gazing at the red lacerations on his patient's back. _'You still are so young, and you should never have had to go through… But you did. The world can be a cruel place.'_

"Who is your father?" Elladan asked. "Maybe we know him."

Legolas winced at the sting of the athelas on his wounds, but no protest left his lips. "He is…no-one," he murmured. "Just no-one."

"But-

"You will not know him."

"How do you-

"Because I do."

Glorfindel looked up, and shook his head at the twins. "Never mind. We can leave the asking of questions for a while. There is one, however, that I would like answered. What is your name? We cannot continue to call you 'child' and 'penneth'. I… Why do you shake your head? You must have a name."

"I don't," Legolas said quickly – too quickly.

"Everyone has a name," Glorfindel replied, his voice soft. "Why do you fear telling us yours?"

The Elfling looked away at the wall of the cave, shivering slightly as droplets of cooled water trickled down his back. "It is not fear, only precaution. My Lord, I want to trust you. I want to trust the twins. And the temptation to tell you everything is so great that it hurts. But I…I just can't. Not yet."

"I understand and respect that, so I will press you no further." Glorfindel smiled vaguely as he heard the child exhale in relief. "I have almost finished tending to you, penneth. I want to bandage your wounds now, and then you must rest."

"Unfortunately, this cave is all we can offer you at present, but it is more comfortable than it looks," Elrohir said, passing the seneschal some rolled up cloths. "We have stayed here for a couple of nights."

'_After spending five weeks either on a thin mattress or in a storm, comfort does not matter to me,' _Legolas thought. But he gave a grateful smile anyway.

Silence fell in the cave, and the Elfling took the chance to think about his new and drastically changed situation. He was free from Seregeth. He was no longer a prisoner. And he wanted to believe that, really he did; but every so often he had to blink a few times, just to clarify that he was not dreaming. But, no. He was living a free life, away from the constant infliction of pain and humiliation that he had become so accustomed to.

Yet despite the freedom, he was unable to sort his emotions into some semblance of order. Happiness coursed through and over him in waves, there was gratitude and admiration towards his rescuers, and a sense of security that had long been missing. But in amongst such feelings were black ones also. Fear – Seregeth had vowed to come after him. Doubt, distrust – everything told him that the three elder Elves were friends, but living in captivity had made him cautious, and he thought it safer to remain withdrawn until he knew more about them. And there were other feelings that he could not explain.

'_My heart feels strange,' _Legolas reflected. _'It hurt before because it was broken, but now it does not know which way to go. I think that… No. I hope that my rescue will heal it, because I have been given another chance. I do not want to die any more, but I am still afraid. What if there is no going back? What if-_

"There, I have finished."

Legolas glanced down at the bandage wrapped around his injured torso, and nodded his thanks as one of the twins passed him his tunic. "Forgive me, my Lord. I was thinking. When I do that, I tend to shut out everything else."

"As do we all," Glorfindel said with a smile. "And I have already told you that you need not address me as your Lord."

The Elfling nodded as he pulled his tunic over his head. It was not the one he had worn out of Mirkwood. Seregeth had given it to him a few days into the imprisonment; and it smelt horribly of captivity. It smelt of the hated cottage, it smelt of the medicine that Legolas had taken during his fevered state, and worse than anything, it smelt of the man himself – a strange scent like old ale coalesced with hay and animal fur. It was not pleasant, and the little boy shivered.

"Are you well?" one of the twins asked softly.

"I… Yes. Yes, thank you." Legolas exhaled, and turned his gaze away from the elder Elves so that they would not see his discomfort. He did not want them to think that he was ungrateful for all they had done.

"Have some of this," Glorfindel said, passing the child a water skin. "It will do you good."

"Thank you, I…" Despite himself, Legolas narrowed his eyes as the sour smell of the liquid hit his senses. It smelt familiar. _Too _familiar. "What is this drink?"

"It is water, but I have put a herb in there which has healing properties. It smells awful and tastes even worse," the seneschal replied apologetically. "But it will help you, and in the long run, is for the best."

The boy got to his feet and backed away from the others, his eyes flickering desperately. "It is a sleeping draught! I know it is! I was forced to drink this before I was taken to Seregeth, and… Valar! I thought you were friends, I didn't…"

"We are," Elrohir said softly. "And you speak the truth – that is a sleeping draught. But we want you to drink it because you have been through a terrible ordeal, and you look so tired. It will send you to sleep for a few hours; and should we ride, you will not wake."

"You do need rest," Elladan contributed. "It will do you good."

Legolas watched the strangers in silence for a moment, but then he shook his head, and sat down once more. "I am sorry. I do not mean to be so distrusting, I just…you…"

"There is no need to justify yourself," Glorfindel said quietly. "Do not drink the sleeping draught if doing so makes you uncomfortable. I only thought that you would welcome rest."

"No, you are right," Legolas admitted. "I will drink it. Although, it will leave a foul taste in my mouth."

Elladan laughed at the poorly concealed expression of dislike that the child wore. "Many herbs are tasteless when mixed with water so that they can be slipped into food or drink without the recipient knowing. But unfortunately, this is the only herb we could find around here for our purposes."

"Never mind," Legolas said with a weak smile. He took a few swallows of the concoction, coughed as it hit the back of his throat, and then looked ruefully at the twins. "You two are healers also?"

"No, though we have been trained," Elrohir replied. "We are not bad students, but our sister is much better. Elladan and I prefer weaponry and fighting and tracking, so we concentrate on those areas more than anything else."

"So did I." Legolas blinked a few times, and raised a hand to stifle a yawn. "You have a sister?"

"Arwen. She is not much younger than us, but still a few centuries older than you, I deem. We see her only rarely, for she stays with our grandparents in Lothlorien," Elladan answered. "Perhaps you would like her. She would most definitely like you. She loves all children. In fact, she cannot wait to be a mother."

"Sounds nice," Legolas muttered.

Glorfindel smiled as the little boy rubbed at his eyes. "No, let it come. Allow yourself to be taken by sleep, penneth. Maybe your dreams will be pleasant, now that you are free from your captor."

"Valar…" Elrohir bit down on his lower lip, and stared at Legolas' eyes – they had fallen shut. "They are… Does that mean he is…?"

"Fading?" Elladan finished in a whisper.

The seneschal looked at the twins, and shook his head slowly. "I have feared it for a while, although I cannot be sure. It is as though his heart and soul are engaged in great battles, fighting over whether they want to stay or leave. I think what happened is this: the child's heart was broken during captivity, and it decided that it could withstand no more. But now this new freedom has made it doubt the choice of fading."

"He cannot fade," Elrohir said quietly.

"No. So soon after being rescued would be cruel," Elladan murmured.

"So it would. And that is why our trip ends here. We are going back to Imladris in one hour, so that our new friend can be saved," Glorfindel replied. "I will not lose him."

"Imladris? But Mirkwood is closer. Surely going there would be more practical," Elrohir began.

"In some respects, others not. The healers in the forest are well-learned in their art, and I have no doubt that that many of the child's wounds they could heal in an instant," the seneschal answered. "But they are not able to mend hearts and save Elves from grief. I know of only one who has the ability to try: your father. And so we go instead to Imladris."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Ok, I am going to run away and hide from irate readers for several reasons. Firstly, for not updating sooner. You would not believe how busy I've been. My work has just piled up over the Christmas holidays, and I had to take two days off college just to complete my assignments! Luckily, they're done now. Secondly, for sending Glorfindel et al off to Rivendell instead of Mirkwood. But don't worry! It will all be resolved soon! I can promise about one or two more chapters of angst, and then the sun will shine again. **

**Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for all of your reviews – its nice to hear from some new people also! Hello to you all!**

**See you soon, **

**Misto**

**x-x**


	17. Chapter 17

Two days had passed since Criltha had escaped Seregeth, and she had spent the same number of nights in the old woman's home in the town. But true to her word of the previous morning, she was ready to leave everything behind: the cottage, the village, the people, and moreover, the memories that had built up over only a short amount of time – less than a week – but were painful nonetheless. She was ready to start a new life.

"If I had money, I would give it to you," the girl said to the older mortal, as she prepared to leave the house. "Your kindness really does mean a lot to me, and never will I forget it. My only regret is that I cannot pay you back."

"I enjoyed your company, my dear," the woman replied with a smile. "That was payment enough for a childless and friendless widow. I was glad to have you here, and that is the truth. I wish you luck in your life. A young girl like you will need it – no home, no money, no family."

"I cannot stay here," Criltha said gently. "I cannot."

"Aye, that I know." The elderly woman pushed a basket into the girl's hands, and gave another smile. "Some food for your journey, wherever your path goes. And a little extra at the bottom."

"What do you mean?" Criltha started to pull back the cloth covering the basket, but stopped at the expression on the other's face. "What have you done?"

"Don't you look in there until you are well away from here, otherwise you will refuse my gift. Now. You had best be getting on," the old mortal said, blinking as her eyes started to dampen. "I will miss you, child. I have taken great pleasure in having you stay here."

Criltha hooked the basket on one arm, and leaned forwards to embrace the woman with the other. "And I have taken great pleasure in being allowed to stay. Thank you. For everything."

The elderly woman smiled, but she said no more. The younger of the two was still for a moment before turning, and stepping decisively through the door and out into the street. Not once did she look back, though as she turned the corner, her heart ached slightly. But she was free, and that was all that mattered to her any more. She was free, and a new life was waiting. Maybe far away or maybe close at hand, but it was waiting nonetheless.

As she walked lightly upon the cobbled stones and felt a cool morning breeze on her face, Criltha started to hum. The tune was an invented one, and nonsensical, but the fact that she was able to sing it without being either struck or jeered at was enough to elicit a joyous peal of laughter from her. She could do anything, after years of being restricted and bound by the cruel strength of men.

To her, Seregeth was dead. He meant nothing to her any more, she could spit in disgust at him and then forget him forever. That was easy enough. But then Criltha's heart missed a beat as the bruised face of Legolas burst into her mind; and she closed her eyes as she remembered the victim who was being left behind – all because of her.

"Damn it," she muttered, sweeping a hand through her hair. "Forget the boy as you can the man. Or do you want to go back to imprisonment? Legolas does not exist. He is no more, just as Seregeth is no more."

This was all repetition, and Criltha knew that well. She had gone over all of this yesterday morning in her mind, and then she had come to a decision – leave the Elf, and move on. But now it seemed to be a problem once more. Why? No, she knew that also: guilt. It was eating away at her, and so it had been since the previous day, although before she had not known it. She-

"You! Girl!"

The young woman spun, and stared at the man advancing towards her down the street. She stared in horror, but relaxed a second later. It was not Seregeth. "How may I help you, sir?" she asked, ending the sentence with a deep exhale of relief.

"I know who you are," the man snarled. "I recognise you. I saw you in the market the other day."

"You must be mistaken," Criltha muttered, moving away slightly. "I do not know you."

"Maybe not. But I know you. You _were_ in the market with my friend and that Elf-boy, and I saw you with my own two eyes," the other mortal said in a low voice. "My name is Taras, and Seregeth made me a promise – you."

"I really don't-

Criltha's panicked words were cut off as a large hand clamped itself over her mouth and nose; and she fought desperately for breath. The man was pulling her without abandon, dragging her up the cobbled street. Was no-one watching from a window? Was there not one person who could come to her rescue? No, she was alone, with little strength to defend herself against this new captor.

"You escaped," Taras snarled, pushing the girl into a darkened alley between two houses. "How did you do it? Few can elude Seregeth. He usually breaks them before they get any ideas. But there was nothing left of you to break, was there? You have been a whore for far too long, and that life has broken you already."

"Don't call me that," Criltha whispered.

"Call you what?" Taras sneered. "Come, do not be afraid of the truth. Say it."

"It is not the truth."

"It is, and you are denying it."

The girl's eyes flashed and glistened with tears, and her body shook as she spat out: "I am not a whore. I never have been, I never will be. All I am is a victim, and that is through no fault of mine. Why am I given names and insulted so? You are the one who is using and hurting me, so in my eyes, that makes _you _the whore!"

Taras flicked his hand through the air; and as it connected with the girl's cheek, it sent her sprawling to the dirtied floor of the alley. Her basket slipped off her arm, and she let out a small cry of despair as shiny fruit and white bread was ruined in the black filth. A small velvet bag had also rolled free of the confines of the cloth, and she reached out a shaking hand to grab it. The stronger human kicked her away, and snatched it up for himself.

"What do we have here?" Taras turned the bag upside down, and a few gold coins landed in his palm. He smiled nastily. "I know how you earned these pennies. You did what comes naturally to girls like you – you sold your body. You sold _yourself_."

"A friend gave them to me," Criltha whispered. "A friend…"

"You can have them back, but you must earn them," the man said silkily. He looked down at the helpless figure in silence, but then a cruel laugh left his lips. "You know what you must do."

"Let me go. Please…"

"And spoil my fun for the third time?" As he finished speaking, Taras swooped forwards and claimed Criltha's lips with his own, ravaging them with bruising strength. He could feel tears against his skin, and he leaned back slightly, smiling. "I think not, my dear. I think not."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thalion's hands were painfully tight on the reins, his knuckles whitened with pressure; and even though the horse he had bought tossed its head in discomfort, he did not notice. They were close, so close to their destination. He knew it would only be an hour until he looked upon the cottage in which so many of his memories had been conceived; and that thought made him tremble with a fear he had not known since childhood.

Seregeth would be there. How would the elder man receive his only son? With shock? Fear? Anger? Contempt? It had, after all, been ten years. Would the cold blue eyes pierce his soul and hack at his heart as they had done so many times in the past; or would Thalion find once more the courage to stare back into them? Maybe being in the presence of his father, his _torturer_, would reduce him to nothing more than a frightened little boy, and humiliate him before the group of Elves.

_Elves. _

His heart skipping beats, Thalion glanced across at Thranduil. He had not yet considered the King, although it was something that had been waiting deep inside of himself to be thought of. If his identity should be revealed, what would the reaction be? How would the Elven ruler react to the knowledge that it was the son of Legolas' captor who had been aiding Mirkwood? The man could receive so many things – imprisonment, death, even worse – pity.

'_But this all depends on whether the child is there,' _Thalion reminded himself. _'If he is, Thranduil will condemn me, regardless of the trust that has slowly been building between us. However, he need not know at all if the child is _not _there and I have been wrong in my assumption. I-_

The mortal's eyes snapped shut, and he drew in a sharp gasp of breath as a face from his past flashed suddenly without warning into his mind. It belonged to his father. It was as though Seregeth was watching him, with those cruel lips twisted into a sneer as he laughed at him and mocked him, taunting his weakness.

"Thalion? Are you well?"

He did not even know who had addressed him. The young man leapt off the horse's back and stumbled blindly to the side of the road, where he fell to his knees in the dust. Induced by fear, vomit spilled from his lips, burning the back of his throat. He coughed and choked; and when it was over, he raised a shaking hand to his lips and held it there, afraid that there might be more to come.

The Elves had stopped riding; and after a moment of stunned silence, Thranduil dismounted and went cautiously towards the hunched figure at the side of the road. "Thalion?"

"Leave me," the mortal muttered under his breath. "Go away."

"I will not. What is wrong with you?" the King asked softly. "Are you ill?"

"Do you care?"

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder at Alondir, but the commander only shook his head in confusion. "It does not matter whether I care or not. But if you are unwell, we can give you medicine."

"You would love for me to be ill," Thalion sneered. "You would just love to see me suffering, is that not true? Of course it is. You always took such pleasure out of my pain."

"You are not yourself," Thranduil said quietly.

The man laughed coldly, bitterly – the sound was strange, coming from his lips. "What will you do to remedy that? Beat me until I cannot stand? Force me to watch you batter Surwen? Make me sleep in the stables with the dogs? Whatever you do will not be new to me, _Father_. You have done it all before."

Thranduil blinked in surprise, and shook his head slowly. "Thalion, why do you speak to me so? What game are you playing?"

"It was always _you _who played the games, not I!"

Alondir dismounted and caught the Elven-king's arm, stopping him from going any closer. "No, you should come back. Not all is well with Thalion. It would be safer to-

"Release me."

"What?"

"Alondir…"

"I… As you wish."

As the commander stepped away, Thranduil drew a deep breath and went forwards to stand beside the still hunched form of the mortal. "Thalion, listen to me. I do not know what ails you, but I do know that something is very wrong. I am not who you take me for. You are confused, I-

"Of course you are!" Thalion jumped to his feet and gave the Elf a violent push away. Behind the two, Alondir shook his head at the soldiers to still them, though his hand rested on his sword hilt. "You are the one who victimises and tortures his children because their mother died in childbirth. You are the one who causes our pain and tears. All of it is you, Seregeth!"

The words hit like arrows, and Thranduil's eyes widened in shock as realisation impacted. "Valar…" he breathed. "Your father? No. It cannot be, you…" He trailed off into stunned silence, and shook his head in disbelief.

Thalion watched the other coldly for a moment, but then the light in his eyes started to dim, and a vague expression of bewilderment appeared on his face. "What has happened?" he asked slowly. "Why have we stopped? And why do you all look at me as though I am a stranger?"

"Because you are," Thranduil answered frostily. "You have lied to us."

"What? Why do you speak to me so? I-

"Thalion, you are unwell. Sit at the side of the road for a few minutes to recover. Celorfyn, will you see to him? Make no mention of what transpired." Alondir's voice dropped as he addressed a dark haired soldier. "Thranduil, if you and I could have a word…"

"More than one," the blonde Elf said viciously. He glared at the mortal, before turning on his heel and nodding to the commander. "Over there."

"Valar, this is a revelation. Thalion is Seregeth's son. Although, I must admit that I was waiting for something such as this to happen," Alondir said, as he and the King walked away from the group.

"You did?"

"Aye. It was just a…a feeling I had, one which I could not quite place," the elder Elf replied slowly. "Thalion was always reluctant to speak of Seregeth, and when he did, he stumbled over his words. It made me wonder."

"Apparently, rightly so," Thranduil said coldly. "I was right all along – we should not have trusted him."

"Forgive me, but I do not think so," Alondir sighed. He shook his head, and looked into his friend's angry eyes. "Yes, Thalion has kept some truth from us. But what harm has that caused? I do not believe that he would betray us."

"Even though you suspected him?"

"That was before we knew his secret."

Thranduil exhaled, and pushed a hand through his blonde hair – it was a weary gesture. "Alondir, I have no time for this. I just want to get to Seregeth's home, and find out if my son is… Nothing of this will be said to Thalion until the journey is over. I care not for any of it – Legolas is my greatest concern, and will remain to be so, no matter what secrets are revealed. Just have the soldiers keep a close watch on that human, as a precaution."

"Of course, though I doubt we have much to fear from him," Alondir replied grimly. He paused, and glanced sideways at the younger Elf. "You must be feeling…I do not know what. But try to keep your temper with Thalion. We need the last hour of this journey to run smoothly and without incident. Although, as the Valar do not favour us at the moment, that may well be asking for too much."

"I know that as well as anyone, _more _than anyone," Thranduil said, his voice soft. "And believe me, I will do nothing yet. I just want to know if Legolas is with Seregeth. I want to know if he still lives, I want…I want my child, Alondir."

"I know you do, and we will tarry no longer," the commander answered. "Come, let us go."

The Elven-king nodded; and as they walked back towards the horses he did not even glance at Thalion, although he was well aware of the man's confused eyes fixed upon him. Deep down, far below the surface, he was confused also. Had the trust that had grown between himself and the mortal been nothing more than another piece added to the cruel game that was being played with his life? And if it was? What did it matter? The countless trials he was being forced to live through had succeeded in hardening his heart against some pains.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Silent tears rolled down Criltha's cheeks, leaving shiny lines in the dirt which had gathered upon her face, but she made no attempt to brush them away. She could not find strength enough even for that simple movement. She just stood at the stream, staring almost unseeingly at the outside walls of Seregeth's cottage. Yes, she had returned after Taras' attack on her.

There was no need for her to question this. Criltha knew exactly why she had come back to the place she had escaped from only a few days before. Taras' abuse had been strangely symbolic. It had been a sign, clearly telling her that no matter where she went, no matter how far she tried to run, she would always be used for the very same thing, and kept in the life that she fought so hard to break free from. It told her that she would always be a prisoner.

"One person can only bear so much," she murmured dully. "And I can bear no more. I am tired of fighting. So tired."

Criltha stepped across the stream and trudged over the grass, not aware of the blades as they brushed against her feet and ankles. She could feel nothing – nothing but a constant ache inside of her that hung directly over her heart. Her eyes and soul were unseeing, blind to everything around, to life itself. Her spirit felt dead. In fact, she felt as though she was only a body, devoid of a soul. For she had no cares left, no emotions, no feelings. Nothing.

As she pushed open the door and stepped into the cottage, it took a moment for Criltha to take in what had happened. She stared at Seregeth in expressionless silence for a few seconds, but then the dimmed light in her eyes flared slightly as her mind registered what the eyes were seeing. Her captor was tied up. He was a prisoner. He looked…helpless.

"You came back," Seregeth said softly. He glanced at the girl's creased and dirty dress, and shrugged as well as the ropes around his body would allow. "Not before having a few adventures of your own, I see."

"Yes, I have returned. But I do not understand," Criltha replied. "Why are you bound? Did someone do this to you?"

"No, I had nothing to occupy myself with, and I thought this would be an interesting thing to do, so I tied myself up," Seregeth answered evenly. But then his lips turned into a sneer, and he shook his head in derision. "Of course someone else did this."

"Who?"

"Why did you come back?"

"Why?" Criltha repeated. "Because I am a desperate woman. Because there is nothing left for me, nothing worth fighting for. My life has lost meaning, and my future will never be different than my past, no matter how I strive to make it so."

"Indeed. I thought you were stronger than that," Seregeth said, almost in disappointment. "Evidently I was wrong."

"I used to be strong…" Criltha was still for a moment, but then, without taking her eyes from the man's, she lifted her dress slightly. Lines of blood had dried upon her thighs. "Then this happened. I met your friend in the town. He did this to me."

"Taras?" Seregeth laughed. "How amusing. So, he got what he wanted in the end. Good for him."

"How can you call what he did amusing?" Criltha whispered. "He hurt me."

"You enjoyed it. It is all you know."

"He forced himself upon me! He held me down in the mud so that I could not move, and he took me, and…and all you can do is laugh. I am not a whore! I am not an animal! I am not filth!" the girl screamed. She swung around, and swept her arms across the table top. Books and cutlery and all sorts fell to the ground, but she did not notice. "I am a living person, and I once had a heart and soul. But men…men such as your friend, as _you_, have stolen that from me. I…"

As Criltha fell silent, Seregeth's eyes followed her gaze. His expression flickered almost fearfully. "Do not touch it. Leave it there."

"A knife? A beautiful knife. Where did it come from?" The girl knelt, and lifted the slim blade with reverence. The sun through the window caught and reflected off it, and she smiled eerily. "Now, _this_ is amusing. I have a deadly weapon, and you are tied up and without defence."

"Put it down," Seregeth said quietly.

"Why should I? I rather like this role reversal, this switch of power and control," Criltha murmured. "Being a captive suits you, although I expect you disagree somewhat."

"Imprisonment is more becoming to you."

"Your voice is cold and you sound brave – as brave as a man can be when faced with a knife – but I detect fear," Criltha sneered. "You are afraid. I find that amusing also. Very amusing indeed."

"Laugh away," Seregeth said carelessly.

"Where is Legolas?" the girl suddenly snapped.

"Legolas?"

"Tell me!"

The man winced as Glorfindel's blade was pressed against his throat; and he found himself staring into a pair of manic green eyes. "You wish to know where the boy is? I am happy to tell you. But I warn you now, it will not make easy listening. You would be wise to remove the knife, lest you do something hasty."

"What have you done?" Criltha whispered. She let her arm fall, and the weapon clattered to the floor. "Please, tell me what has happened. If you have hurt him, I swear I-

"Hurt him? No, no. Believe me, I have not hurt him. The Prince is dead. Tragically, he passed away this very morning," Seregeth sighed. "Very upsetting, I know."

"No. He cannot be…"

"Dead? I am afraid he is, I…" The man rolled his eyes as Criltha jumped to her feet and rushed into the room that she had once shared with Legolas. "Whatever are you doing now?"

Predictably, no answer came. Seregeth leaned his head back against the beam he was bound to, and absently flexed his fingers. The Elven rope moved only slightly; and although it rubbed against his skin, it felt not rough and coarse as cord so often does, but instead surprisingly silken. The material belies the strength, the mortal reflected grimly, looking up as Criltha reappeared.

"So…what did you find? Or rather, what did you _not_ find?"

"You really did kill him," the girl breathed. "He was only a little boy, and you took his life. Why should I not take yours to avenge him? You deserve it – and more."

"Kill me. I have nothing else planned," Seregeth shrugged, glancing down at himself. "Before you do, though, would you not be interested to hear who did this to me? Perhaps we could come to an agreement. You could help me, and I-

"No, I do not want to know, because I do not care," Criltha cut in. She raised Glorfindel's knife and held the blade close to her once captor's throat. "It is only fair that you die. I hope that the moral side of you – if there is one – can see that and agree, because… But then, why? Why _should_ it be you?"

Seregeth winced as the knife scraped his skin, and he turned his head to the side. "Cease the talk," he growled. "Stop playing, and just kill me if that is what you want to do. You are wasting time."

"You did not kill Legolas," Criltha said in a low voice. "I did. I did not come back for him as I promised; I did not bother to find someone who could help me free him. I failed him. I sealed his fate even before you took his life, so this…this is my fault. His blood is on my hands. Valar, I killed him!"

The girl's screams echoed in the cottage, and Seregeth drew in a sharp breath as warm liquid spattered over him. Where was the pain, though? He could feel nothing. But then the realisation hit – it was not his blood. It was Criltha's. As the terrible declaration had left her lips, she had jerked the Elven knife away, and sliced it across her own wrist. The movement sent her sinking to the floor, but no cry came from her.

"Woman, are you mad?" Seregeth spat.

"I have never been saner," Criltha breathed, raising her left arm, and gazing at the rivulets of running blood. "I am of sound mind. Do not doubt that, for you could not be more wrong."

"Of course I doubt it! You are spilling your life away on the floor of my cottage!" Seregeth closed his eyes and shook his head angrily, his face screwed up in disgust. "I made a mistake in having you brought here, one of the greatest I have ever made."

"Yes, because it resulted in the death of that child. But I am amending that mistake now," Criltha said quietly. "I am amending it with my blood."

"An admirable feat indeed," Seregeth sneered. "But you are winning nothing. This will not save Legolas. This will not affect me. All you will achieve is your own death, and that is… I fail to understand why you want this."

"Do you need to? I am tired of life – it is a chore, and nothing but pain and misery are conceived from it, though you know nothing of that. Compared to mine, your life has been one of luxury," Criltha murmured, "and perhaps you have taken it for granted. I hope you can realise that one day."

"If I do, you will not be around to know. I…" Seregeth looked up, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "What is that? Do you hear it?"

"Hmm?"

"The hooves of horses. I would swear that I heard many hooves upon the ground, but I could be wrong," Seregeth shrugged. "I suppose that being tied to a pole in one's own home can do funny things to the mind. But no matter. Let us continue with our conversation. There is little else for us to do in your final minutes."

Criltha rested her head against the wall, and absently ran a finger through the falling blood on her wrist. "I am dying. There is nothing that can save me. And if there was, I would refuse it. But do you not see the irony here? It amuses me somewhat. My life was always filled with pain, but my death is so…so peaceful. I feel as though I am floating…far away…in the clouds."

"Then we have something in common. Both of us are experiencing unknown feelings," Seregeth said softly. "You have your euphoria and happiness, and I have this sense of vulnerability, helplessness and… Horses again. Can you not hear them?"

"No, no horses. In fact, I hear very little. Everything is fading, I…" Criltha blinked slowly, a lazy smile on her face. "I see even less. There is a mist before my eyes, a strange mist that I have never before seen. This must mean that I am-

"Being taken by death," Seregeth said in a low voice. He raised his eyes, and watched the weakened girl in silence for a moment. Then a nasty smile turned his lips upwards, and he continued: "There is something that you must know. I have not been entirely truthful with you."

"What do you…?"

"Legolas. He lives."

Light flared momentarily in Criltha's eyes, but it was swift to fade dully. "Not dead?" she breathed. "Valar, but how…? No. You are lying to me, you have to be. Please, tell me that you are."

"I was lying, but now I speak the truth," Seregeth replied. "I thought it only fair that you know your life has been taken for nothing. What a waste. And now you cannot save yourself. My, my. You have lost everything."

"No." Criltha looked up, and made the slightest movement with her head. "I have only gained – I have gained peace, and that is more than you will ever have."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"This is it." Alondir looked at the group gathered around him, letting his eyes linger upon Thalion and Thranduil. The former was pale and ill-looking, whilst the latter was silently impassive. "All of you can see that we are so close to our final destination. Whatever we find in there will be the end of this story. It could be a happy ending. It could equally be an evil one."

"We are prepared for either," a soldier said quietly.

"I hope so. Now, we are going into that cottage for one reason only: news of Prince Legolas. Remember that. Nothing else can matter," Alondir continued, glancing again at Thalion. "If any of you fear that other feelings will cloud your resolve, say so now, and remain outside. Less will not be thought of you." There was only silence. "Very well. Thalion, here I will need your help."

"What?"

"Your help," Thranduil reiterated sharply. "He needs it."

The commander looked sideways at his friend, before turning towards the man. "Of us all, you alone know the layout of the cottage, and who is likely to be in there. What can you tell us?"

"I…I don't…" Thalion exhaled, and pushed a hand wearily through his dark hair. "Seregeth will more than likely be the only one you have to fight. He used to have a friend – Taras – who would visit, but whether he still does, I do not know."

"But you do know much," Thranduil said, his voice unreadable.

Thalion looked at the Elf in vague confusion, wondering at the renewed hostility. "Yes. But surely that is not something to be considered a problem? I am only trying to be of as much help as I possibly can."

"Of course. Continue."

"It will be an easy attack. The cottage has only three rooms, and Seregeth will not be hard to restrain," Thalion finished. "It can be done in only a few minutes."

"Thank you," Alondir said. "Very well. Celorfyn and Hérion, you will stand guard outside to be safe. Maeron, Tirithon and Anais, you will secure the man. I will search the rooms with the rest of you. Thranduil, you need not come in. We will all understand if you would prefer to wait outside. Thalion…the same applies to you."

"Why do you say that?"

"It matters not why I do," Alondir replied. "But should you fear entering the cottage, feel free to remain here."

"Why would he want to do that?" Thranduil asked, shooting Thalion a cold smile. "If he has anything to fear in there, surely he would tell us rather than keep it secret? After all, that would be a breach of our trust in him, and-

"Daro!"

The Elven soldiers all looked up quickly, stunned that even the commander would be presumptuous enough to issue such an order – especially before them – regardless of whether he was a close friend of the King or not. Thranduil was silent, unsure if he should be amused or angry, though in the moments of indecision, his eyes flashed warningly at Alondir.

"When I was a child, you were as a father to me," he said quietly. "You were my mentor and friend, and since the day that Oropher died, you and I have been brothers. You can remember all of that, but do not _ever_ forget that I am your King, and nothing gives you the right to speak so to me. When we return to Mirkwood, I will consider your position. Prepare yourself for some changes, Commander."

Alondir's eyes widened slightly, but he quieted his shock enough to incline his head respectfully. "I will not dispute any decisions you make, Hír-nin."

Thranduil hesitated. _Hír-nin_. The seasoned warrior never called him that. But then he shook himself, and turned a cold gaze on Thalion. "You do not keep secrets from your allies. As a captain, you should know that. So before we go into the cottage, is there anything else you would care to share with us?"

"What do you mean?" the man asked softly.

"Never mind."

As Thranduil looked away, Alondir gave a brief signal with his hand for the group to start moving towards the small building. Thalion's eyes snapped wildly upon him, silently pleading for the answers that he so desperately wanted; the answers that would help him to understand what had changed in only an hour. Something had happened, it must have. But what? Had he said incriminating words without realising? Had the Elves guessed – moreover, had Thranduil guessed – the truth about him? That he was Seregeth's… But no answers were coming from the commander, silent or otherwise.

'_But why does it matter?' _Thalion thought bitterly. _'We will be in the cottage in a matter of seconds, and face to face with the man who made my life so miserable. If he says anything – and he is bound to – the Elves will know as it is.' _

The young mortal pushed a hand through his hair again and let out a deep breath, his eyes closed as he tried in vain to calm the nervous fluttering of his heart. They were at the door – he noted absently that it had received a new coat of paint – and weapons were being drawn noiselessly, bows strung and knives raised. His own hand was damp with sweat, slipping as he grasped his sword.

'_Push the fear away,' _he told himself silently. _'Do not let it take over.'_

Still breathing deeply, Thalion glanced across at Thranduil. Only one of the Elf's twin knives were out, for his other hand was held against his chest; and as the sun caught him, silver flashed through his fingers, revealing itself to be the chain of a pendant. The man wondered for a moment, but then told himself that it was not his business why the necklace seemed important. Maybe it was for good luck – the Valar knew they needed it.

At a signal from Alondir, a soldier grasped the door handle – more than one heart skipped, bodies tensed in anticipation – and pushed hard. Even as the portal swung open, the small group leaped through it into the cottage, prepared for confrontation. But none came. The Elves stopped, stunned, and only stared in silence at the bound man before them. He stared back, equally surprised. Much later on, some would look back and smile, but there was no room for humour yet.

"Look at the girl," Alondir murmured. "Andaer, check her."

A brown haired soldier knelt at the mortal woman's side, and glanced wordlessly at the open wound on her left wrist. His eyes flickered in recognition of the fatal injury, but still he pressed two fingers to the white throat, feeling for a life which he knew would not be found. Bowing his head briefly in mourning, he passed a hand over the glassy green eyes, closing them for one last time. Then he rose, and turned to his commander.

"Dead, sir."

"How long?"

"Not very. She is still warm."

Alondir looked at the tied man, and his sword wavered slightly in doubt. "What happened here?" he asked sharply. "Why did the girl's life end thusly? And what explanation is there for your predicament?"

A pair of cold eyes flicked over the group of Elves and came to rest briefly on Thranduil, before looking back to Alondir. "You offend me, my good Elf. Is this the way you treat victims of attack? Can you not see that I have been assaulted in my own home and tied up like an animal? And yet you stand there and question me as though I am a common criminal. Release me, and I-

"No."

The small company parted, and Thalion stepped forwards so that he was in full view. Strangely, he felt calm. Now that he was facing his bane, the fear had vanished and he was able to hold his head high. His lips turned upwards in a slight smile as the bound man drew in a sharp breath of shock. But he uttered no words, waiting for the other to speak.

"You!" Seregeth spat eventually.

"Yes, I have returned," Thalion said quietly. "Coming back here was hard for me. This cottage holds so many memories, but I had to fight them. I had to fight _you_ – again and again and again."

"And you won, I take it," Seregeth replied, his voice cold.

"Sometimes." The young man sheathed his sword, and folded his arms over his chest. "Surwen was right – all those years ago, I should have killed you when given the chance. That would have stopped you from spreading your malice – but I do not know that it would have freed me from your clutches."

"Poor little Thalion, always the victim," Seregeth said contemptuously. "Did you ever stop to think that you brought it on yourself? Your birth killed your mother, and I was left to bring up a pair of screaming babes. What else could I have done? Always you blame me, but it is unjust blame. Did that thought ever cross your mind?"

"No, because it is not truth," Thalion answered evenly.

Away from the men, Thranduil shook his head in anger. "I have had enough of this," he hissed to Alondir. "I am going to find my son. That is why we are here."

"I would ask that you wait, and let us look for him," the commander murmured. "If he is not here, opening doors onto empty rooms will hurt you. I say this not out of concern for my King but out of love for my friend. Please."

Thranduil nodded, and attempted a small smile. "Just find him. Find Legolas and bring him to me."

As the soldiers started to spread themselves out over the cottage, Seregeth flicked his eyes away from Thalion, and trained them instead on the one immortal who remained behind. He took in the golden hair, the silvery blue eyes that pierced like spears, the sharply defined cheekbones which sat high upon the beautiful Elven face – and his lips turned upwards in a nasty smile. He had not heard Alondir's words, yet he knew full well who stood before him.

"Why do you smile?" The Elf's voice was quiet, but it dripped with unconcealed contempt. "I see nothing to laugh at."

"Perhaps not, but I was merely thinking," Seregeth replied. "I look into your face and I see another's. The resemblance between you both is really very startling."

"Then my suspicions were right," Thalion murmured, "though they were late in coming."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the elder of the two mortals, and he fought to keep his voice steady as he said: "You have my son, then. Valar help me, you will regret the day you were born. You have done more damage to the ones I love than you can imagine, and for that I am going to make you pay."

"Indeed? That is rather unfair," Seregeth sneered. "You are going to deny _my_ son that pleasure?"

Thalion's eyes snapped towards Thranduil, panic flickering over his face. "I-

"It matters not," the Elf cut in quietly. "It is through no fault of your own that he is your father. Forget my earlier words. The child cannot choose the parent, and I do not blame you for any of this – for _him_."

"Legolas spoke often of you," Seregeth said suddenly. "All I heard was Ada this and Ada that. He loved you very much, and I think it was thoughts of you that kept him strong. You were precious to him. I suppose the feelings are, of course, mutual."

"Of course, I…" Thranduil fell silent, and looked carefully at the man. "Why do you speak of my son as though his part in this story is over? You make it sound as though he is…gone."

Seregeth smirked cruelly, and a dark bubble of laughter left his lips. "My deepest condolences, Your Highness. I am sorry, _so_ sorry for your loss."

"No…"

"I can only begin to imagine how you must be feeling," the man continued sadly. "The death of any child is tragic indeed, but to know it is your own… The pain must be unbearable-

"You lie!" Thranduil hissed, dropping to the floor and grabbing the front of Seregeth's shirt.

"My dear Elf, you should not do that – give yourself false hope," the mortal sighed. "Sadly it was one of your son's faults for a time. He hoped that I would free him, that he would escape, that you would come for him. After a while, he just stopped hoping."

Thranduil rose fluidly and went towards the door on the right hand side of the room, ignoring the cold laughter of Seregeth, and focusing only on the thought that soon he would be reunited with his son, no matter what the man said. He raised a hand to turn the handle, but the portal opened almost immediately. As he found himself looking into Alondir's ashen face, his own paled fearfully, and he shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "Where is he? Why are you keeping him from me?"

"Legolas is not here," the commander said in a low voice. "But he was. There are child's clothes in the room beyond, and this is… Valar, this is the tunic he was wearing upon leaving Mirkwood."

Thranduil took the small item of clothing, and stared almost unseeingly at it. It was not recognisable as Legolas'. The material was torn in places, and in others were the thin lines where a whip appeared to have cut through. The light green dye had faded, and stains covered it – red stains. The Elven-king drew in a sharp breath, and shook his head in disbelief. Blood…his son's blood.

"I am so sorry," Alondir murmured. "There was nothing but clothes in there. And a small dog, but I do not… Maeron has gone to look in the stables and behind the cottage, but I think that…I think we are too late."

"No." Thranduil's fist tightened around the tunic, and he turned sharply to face Seregeth, who was watching in interest. "What have you done to my son?" he spat. "Tell me where he is, or I will torture you myself until I hear what I want to know."

"And if I tell you the truth but it is not to your liking, will you use that as reason to torture me still?" the man asked. "Your boy had a temper, and I wondered often who he inherited it from. If that would be you, I want you to keep calm and quiet. I will remain silent if I do not receive that."

"Even now you do not have the grace to show some regret," Thalion suddenly snapped. "Tied up as you are, you still need to be the one with all the power. But this time you will not be heeded. You will talk, no matter what."

"I thought I beat the insolence out of you a long time ago," Seregeth said in surprise. "Clearly you did not learn your lessons, I—

"My son," Thranduil snarled. "Where is he?"

The man looked up at the Elf, and gave a slight smile. "I am unsure where to begin. Let me first of all introduce you to Criltha over there. I bought her to be my whore, but sadly, she escaped, aided by your child. He caused a diversion which, naturally, angered me, so I beat him. You should have seen it. He was lying in a pool of his own blood and tears when I was finished with him."

A few of the soldiers hissed in anger, but Thranduil merely said: "Go on."

"After this punishment was over, I realised that Legolas was becoming out of hand – I will admit that at times I found it difficult to keep him under control – and that it was time to let him go," Seregeth continued. "After all, what do I want with an unruly child?"

"Did you sell him?" Alondir snapped. "Pass him on to another?"

"The latter more so than the former," the man answered calmly. "There is an axe outside for cutting firewood. Perhaps you saw it? Well, I am sure you do not need me to explain what use I put it to."

Thranduil's head jerked up in horror, and he stared at Seregeth through terrified eyes. "No, that is a lie. You did not kill my child. You did not."

"He does not speak the truth," Thalion agreed quietly. "He would always stoop low, but never _this_ low. He would not be strong enough to end a life."

"Things change," Seregeth spat. "People change. You and I have not laid eyes upon each other for ten years, so don't you start pretending that you know me. You should not presume to know anything, as I warned Legolas only a month ago – Valar, it seems as though much more time has passed. How strange."

"Prove this to us," Alondir said coldly.

"The boy is nowhere to be seen, what more proof could you ask for? I suppose you would like a body to confirm my words, but unfortunately, I cannot give you one," Seregeth continued, watching maliciously as Thranduil struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I carried Legolas outside to bury him; and the next thing I knew, a rock was being smashed over my head. Criltha had returned. When I awoke, I was tied here."

"Valar," Alondir breathed, as painful realisation hit. "The girl buried him?"

"Yes, and she will take her secret to the grave," Seregeth replied. He paused, and smiled at the Elves. "Ah, forgive me. That was a rather poor choice of words."

The soldier named Andaer suddenly turned and left the cottage, swiping almost violently at glistening eyes. The sounds of his helpless vomiting were heard by all, yet no-one blamed him. Thalion could only stare at his father in horror, apparently fighting the urge to empty his stomach also. The Elves were silent, some unconsciously leaning against the walls or even each other for support, all lost in a grief that had increased tenfold in a matter of seconds. Their Prince was dead…

"And the girl said nothing to you of Legolas' whereabouts before she took her own life?" Alondir pressed, his voice softened by pain.

"No, no. But then, even if she had I would not betray her last words," Seregeth answered cruelly. "Why should I want to? Watching you all suffer is a far better sport, and-

The man was silenced by a blow to his face; and as his head slammed back against the beam, he felt blood inside his mouth. He looked up into a pair of silver pools, and blinked slightly in surprise – the hatred and pain and grief was great, too great for him to understand how such raging emotions must feel. The intensity made him shiver. He waited in silence for another blow. None came. The Elf who looked so much like Legolas merely knelt beside him and stared into his face, searching it with eyes demanding answers. Eventually he spoke, his voice quiet.

"I do not believe you."

"Only you can make that choice," Seregeth replied, just as softly. "But it is not a wise one. I killed your son, and you can doubt that as much as you want. It will change nothing, though."

Thranduil nodded slowly, before turning sharply and snatching up the blade that Criltha had used to end her life. He slashed through the ropes binding the mortal, not even noticing, in his grief, the Elven feel of them as they brushed against his fingers. Seregeth immediately tried to jump to his feet, to force some sort of escape, but the immortal threw him back against the beam, holding him still with only one hand.

"Maybe my doubt is not enough, but the knife must be," Thranduil murmured, so that his words remained private. "Rest assured that I will use it, if you do not change your story now and tell me the truth. My son. What have you done?"

There was silence in the cottage, and it was as though only that one man and Elf existed as they stared at each other. Alondir, Thalion, the soldiers – all of them seemed to be part of a different world, mere spectators to the tableau. Thranduil held the cruel eyes with his own for what felt a lifetime, before slamming the mortal's wrist up against the beam. He stabbed the dagger straight through Seregeth's hand, pinning it to the wood.

"I warned you," he hissed, paying no heed to the scream that left the other's lips. "Tell me where my son is, and tell me now. I can and I _will_ do this for as long as it takes. Where is Legolas?"

"Curse you," the man howled. Tears leaked unbidden from his eyes as waves of pain washed over and through him, and the frustration that he could not hide them from the Elf only made more fall.

"I will ask once more, and this time I want an answer from you," Thranduil said, his voice low. "Do you think this is bad? Does it hurt you? Believe me when I say that I can do much worse. You can spare yourself some of the hurt and humiliation if you tell me the truth."

Seregeth looked up, and shook his head with a humourless laugh. "I speak no lies, and you are a fool to think otherwise. Your son is dead, and that is the end of-

Another scream rent the air as Thranduil pinned the man's other hand to the beam, this time with one of his own twin knives. His eyes were like chips of ice as he listened impassively to Seregeth's oaths and curses, but then suddenly he was being pulled to his feet, and spun around to face Alondir. He searched the commander's face, trying to identify the multitude of emotions set out before him, but failing. The elder Elf gripped his shoulders tightly, holding him still as he tried to get back to the mortal.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"What am _I _doing?" Alondir repeated. "Thranduil, no. What are _you_ doing?"

The Elven ruler shook his head, not understanding the question. "He has my son, your Prince somewhere, and you try to stop me from getting the truth out of him? We are so close to finding Legolas, we…we _are_ close. I know we are."

"No, you know that we have failed," Alondir whispered.

Thalion pulled his shocked gaze away from his father, and looked towards the two immortals. "The commander is right. Look inside of yourself, and you will find that you have known what the truth really is all along. We are not close. We are too late."

"I killed your son," Seregeth clarified quietly. "Legolas _is _dead."

"I…I don't…" Thranduil turned back to face the man, and his eyes fell upon the bloody hilts protruding from the red palms. He tried to ignore them, tried not to imagine the pain they must be conceiving; but the mortal was slipping in and out of consciousness – surely he must be speaking truthfully? Nonetheless, the Elf reiterated: "I do not believe you."

"I hope, for your own sake, that you start to soon," Seregeth murmured. "If you do not, the grief will tear your soul apart."

Thranduil shook his head slowly. "It is already torn."

He held the man's green gaze in silence, before turning sharply and walking from the cottage. He could feel Alondir and the soldiers watching him, could sense Thalion's eyes upon his back – and yet it all seemed far away, in a place that was parallel to the one he was in. Maybe in that place, his son was still alive. He passed Andaer without seeing him, and found himself wishing that he were there in that other world. But then the thought was banished by a chiding one that told him not to be childish. It seemed inappropriate.

As he went around the side of the cottage to be alone, raindrops started to fall lightly, mingling with the tears he had not realised were already dampening his cheeks. Legolas was dead. That was all he knew, that was all he could see in his mind – images of his little boy, terrified and crying on the floor, and then bleeding as the axe had… Thranduil drew in a sharp breath and leaned against the wooden wall as the ground swayed dangerous beneath his feet.

He was lost. Up until now he had felt – anger, pain, grief, fear. But now he didn't know what to feel. Only a few minutes back, he had wanted to cause Seregeth as much hurt as possible, yet now that desire had vanished. To where? He didn't know. He didn't know anything. Except for that ever present thought: Legolas was dead. Dead. _Dead_.

"No," Thranduil whispered. He tangled his hands in his own hair, pulling hard and taking a small amount of pleasure from the pain. "This isn't happening. It cannot be. I prepared myself for it, but not enough. Legolas, ion-nin…"

"Thranduil."

The Elf did not turn, not trusting himself to move. "Alondir, say nothing. Because if you do that will make it real, and I cannot face reality. I want to hold on to falsehoods for a minute more. Is that so wrong? Just one minute more. And then I will accept the truth, I… I understand. I understand what Laerwen meant by cleaning his room. The pretence held the pain at bay."

Alondir reached out with a shaking hand and rested it on his friend's shoulder, pulling the younger Elf back so that they stood closer together. "Believe what you want to, but not for any longer than a minute. Do not, because the denial will be the end of you. It will kill you."

Thranduil looked up at the grey sky, blinking as rain water fell into his eyes. "I feel lost, I feel as though I am a child once more," he murmured. "What am I supposed to say? To do? To feel, even? I need someone to tell me, to direct me on the right path, but there is no-one. I am alone."

"I will never leave," Alondir said quietly.

"I have heard that before – my brother said it once, my father said it. Laerwen said we would always be together, but…" Thranduil drew in a deep breath, and pulled the sleeve of his tunic across his eyes. "I should not dwell on the past. The present and future is what I must focus on, but how can I pick up the pieces? How can I move on, when I know that my only child is gone – that Legolas is dead?"

Alondir blinked back his own tears as his eyes caught the pain induced trembling of the other's body. "I know not. But now is not the time for healing. It is a time for grief. The rest will follow after. Maybe in months, maybe in years. But it will come, I… Why do you shake your head?"

"Because children do not die," Thranduil snapped, turning sharply to face his friend. "Humans die. Our warriors die. The sick and injured die. But children…no. They _live_."

"The world is not that kind," Alondir said softly. "You know that."

The blonde Elf closed his eyes, and nodded slowly. "I do, I just… Legolas is innocent, he has never done anything to hurt another; and for that he receives imprisonment and torture? How can there be judgement in that? He is only a small child."

"Thranduil…" The commander bit down on his lower lip, his heart beating painfully against his chest as he realised what mistake had been made. "Not 'is'. Was."

"What?"

"Legolas _was_ innocent, he never _did_ anything to hurt another," Alondir replied in a low voice. "He _was_ a child. You speak of him as though he is still here, but you have to understand that he is gone. Your son is dead."

Thranduil held his friend's gaze, silver tears slipping silently from his eyes, the wet drops making his lashes glisten. _I know_, his mind screamed. _I know that Legolas is dead_. But even had he wanted to say so, the strength would not be found in him. He could see Alondir trying to form words of comfort, but he suddenly found that he did not want to hear them. He wanted solitude, to be alone with his grief.

"Where are you going?" the commander asked, as the King stepped past him. "In your state, you should not…"

Thranduil let the words wash over him like waves, shutting everything out. Nothing else mattered, except that… An explosion of pain erupted over his heart, similar to the one he had experienced the other night. It almost stopped him in his tracks – almost. He narrowed his eyes against it defiantly and pressed on through the rain. But the ground was spinning before him, whirling and dancing in cruel circles that would not cease. Lights flashed in his vision, and he passed a trembling hand over his eyes, pressing them closed.

"Hír-nin!" It was Andaer – where had he come from? "Hír-nin, your skin is as white as snow. You do not look fit to-

"Get out of my way," Thranduil muttered. "I am fine. Fine…"

"But Hír…" The soldier's eyes widened fearfully, and he spun around. "Commander!"

Alondir was already there, he had moved even before the cry had reached his ears. Struck by a grief that was fatal to Elves, Thranduil's eyes had closed against the world of pain, and he allowed himself to let go, and be dragged downwards. The commanding officer caught the Elven-king before he hit the ground, and lowered him gently towards the damp grass. He sat also, not trusting himself to stand, and pulled the limp body of his friend close against his chest.

"What does this mean?" Andaer breathed.

"I don't…I do not know," Alondir murmured. "But I think that we have come to the end. The King is fading. He cannot be healed in Mirkwood. We have not the power to save him."

"Will he sail with the Queen?" the soldier asked softly. "There is time enough to reach-

"No." Alondir looked down at Thranduil's pale face, and absently brushed some golden hair away. It was a tender gesture, a testament to the depth of their friendship. "No, I fear that it is too late for Laerwen. But if we lose both of them, Mirkwood will fall. That cannot happen. How far are we from Imladris?"

"A week, sir. Give or take a day."

The commander looked up, and nodded in determination. "Very well. Andaer, you are my second until this is over. Choose six from the group and stay behind to bury the girl. She does not deserve to lie in there with that scum. When you have finished the task, go after Queen Laerwen. I want you to delay her departure."

"Sir?"

"You heard. Saving both Thranduil and his wife will be near to impossible, but all we can do is try. We _have_ to try," Alondir said quietly.

"But how can I keep her from leaving without causing further pain?" Andaer asked. "It cannot be done."

"Do what it takes. Just buy us some time," the commander ground out.

"It is not my place to say it, sir, but I feel that I must. You are following in the King's footsteps. He tried to give himself false hope, and now you do the same," Andaer murmured. "The Queen will go to Valinor. It would be cruel to stop her."

Alondir looked down at his unconscious friend, and shook his head angrily. "Obey your orders, soldier. Now, with the rest of the group, I will take the King to Imladris. Lord Elrond will heal him."

"What of the man, sir?"

"Which one?"

"I think that perhaps he means the both of us."

Andaer looked around at Thalion, and made a slight movement with his hands. "Perhaps I do. I ask because this is not what we expected, so we did not plan for it. I do not know what we should now do. Only one of us here is close in the King's confidence, and that is the commander."

"In all of our conversations during this ordeal," Alondir replied, "not once did we reach this point. Thranduil never said that he wanted to take Seregeth prisoner, that he wanted to kill him or have him killed. But you are right, Andaer. I do know the King better than many."

"And, what would he want?" Thalion asked softly.

The Elf looked down at his friend again. "If he wanted to kill Seregeth, he would have done it back there, despite his current state of confused grief. That is not to say, though, that he would begrudge the deed to another."

"No. I may have had my childhood taken by that man, but Thranduil had his _child_ taken," Thalion said in a low voice. "That is more than I could ever… No. He deserves revenge more than I do."

"Andaer, start choosing your men," Alondir ordered quietly. As the younger Elf walked away, the commander looked up and held the mortal's eyes with his own. "I am riding to the haven of Imladris, where Lord Elrond Half-elven dwells. He is the only one who wields power enough to heal the King. You need not come with us, but you need not return to Mirkwood either. You have done all you can for us, and you are now free to leave."

"If you will provide me with a map to this haven, maybe I will follow after you in a while," Thalion said slowly. "I need time to think about this. Keep Seregeth in there until I know how to…until I decide…"

"Of course," Alondir replied, cutting through the man's struggles. "I understand. He will remain captive, and his fate will lie with you. Choose wisely, Thalion. Choose not only for yourself, but for Thranduil and Laerwen, for Legolas, for that girl in there, for everyone who has been hurt. Avenge them."

"You know he will not live," Thalion said, his voice soft. "Even I do not yet know that."

"Sometimes others can see deeper into ourselves than we can," Alondir answered. "Leave this place now, and return only when we have gone. Then carry out your judgement. I will not forget you, and I think that you will be long in the King's mind also. May the Valar be with you, wherever your life leads."

Thalion held the commander's gaze with his own, before silently saying the farewell that could not leave his lips. Then his eyes drifted towards Thranduil; and as he looked upon the pale face, he touched his heart briefly, a small gesture of respect for one whom he felt deserved so much more. And then he was gone, mounting his horse and vanishing through the trees, leaving the Elves behind, leaving – not for the first time – his past behind.

Alondir watched the man's retreating back until he was gone from view, and realisation came then that if he never saw Thalion again, he would care little. He cared even less for Seregeth's fate. It all seemed immaterial now, and away from the world he was living in, in which only grief existed. Legolas was gone, for Laerwen there was a barely visible hope, and Thranduil was following his son. The lives of the three Elves who meant so much to Mirkwood's commanding officer, were over. It was at that moment that tears were conceived; and Alondir rested his head against his closest friend's shoulder, letting the silver drops fall without abandon, and mingle with the tears from the sky.

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**Wow, this was quite a long chapter, wasn't it? I hope you all enjoyed it, though there was no Legolas, and no twins or Glorfindel, but they will be back next time. All of your reviews are really appreciated, as always, and I will try to reply to as many of them as I possibly can. The next chapter will be up next Sunday – look at that, I managed to get back to posting on Sundays. **

**Misto**

**x-x**

**PS: Legolas-gurl88, my mum told me that your e-mail is down, so don't worry, I know you're not ignoring me!**


	18. Chapter 18

Legolas' eyes were wide as he rode through the woods outside Imladris. He had been born in a forest, had spent his whole life living in one – but this was nothing like Mirkwood. The trees were verdant and green, flowers popped up like smiling faces out of the grass, birds trilled sweet melodies as they danced in the blue skies, and… As the Prince watched a family of playing foxes, he felt rather than heard Glorfindel laugh behind him.

"It is beautiful, do you agree?" the seneschal asked softly.

"I do. It is very different to what I am used to," Legolas replied.

Glorfindel nodded, assuming he meant the cottage. "That is not hard for me to imagine. In a matter of minutes we will be in the valley. You will meet Lord Elrond then, and I am afraid that he will ply you with herbs, convinced that his sons and I have not done enough to help you."

"You have," Legolas said quickly. "My wounds pain me no longer, and are only just visible. It has been a week, after all."

"How does that make you feel?" Elladan asked carefully.

The Prince looked to where the twins rode, and shook his head. "I don't know. It is strange. Sometimes I think that this time just last week, I was being beaten and punished. That is an overwhelming thought. But I would have it few other ways. I am glad to be here, _so_ glad."

"Have you ever been to Imladris?" Elrohir questioned. "You must have lived with Elves before-

"Mirkwood."

Glorfindel snapped his head up, and his hand unconsciously tightened on the boy's shoulder. "Mirkwood?" he repeated. "That is strange. Word has not been sent by the King to let us know of any disappearance."

"Strange indeed," Legolas said quietly. "Elladan, may I have my book, please?"

"Of course, penneth."

The child still had not revealed his name to the elder immortals, even after a week of journeying with them. He trusted them, but still… Was it so wrong to be careful? Of course not. Legolas let go of Asfaloth's mane, and reached out to take his book from the dark haired Elf, who had been carrying it in his pack. His fingers curled around it; and as he pulled his arm back, a pair of Elves dressed in soldier's uniform dropped from the trees to land before the horses. He drew in a sharp breath of fear, and his book fell to the leafy floor.

"Peace," Glorfindel soothed. "These are soldiers of Imladris. You have as much to fear from them as you do from the twins and I."

"Forgive us if we caused alarm," one of the newcomers said.

"My book," Legolas muttered.

"Here, let me." The Elf who had spoken reached down, and lifted the leather bound book into his hands. A slight breeze blew through the woods, flicking the pages over; and the soldier's eyes raked over them. "Lord Glorfindel, we were unaware that the King of Mirkwood was visiting. Lord Elrond has not informed us."

"Why do you say that?" the seneschal asked in surprise.

"Look at this…"

Legolas watched in horror as Glorfindel leaned forwards and took the book. "No," he breathed. "Please, don't…"

"Prince Thranduil Oropherion? What does…?"

The little boy could feel so many pairs of eyes on him, questioning him; and he realised that he didn't want to hear those questions spoken aloud. How was he supposed to answer? He pulled himself away from Glorfindel, and slid off Asfaloth's back to the ground, afraid to stay but afraid to run. Fear…that was a feeling he had not known for days, and now it was returning in full force. He bit down on his lower lip, and cast his gaze around nervously.

"Why are you so afraid?" Glorfindel asked softly. He leaned down, and held out his hand to the child. "Have your book back. It is not mine to look at, and I apologise for doing so. Please, take it. It is yours."

"You know," Legolas breathed. "You have guessed."

"What does he mean?" Elrohir questioned.

Glorfindel looked down at the frightened Elfling, and shook his head slowly. "I will not voice my thoughts here. Yes, I have guessed at something, but now is not the time or place for talk. That will come later."

"I am sorry," Legolas said, his voice barely audible. "For not telling you, I mean. I was scared."

"That I understand." Glorfindel dismounted and knelt before the child, taking the small face in his hands. His eyes shone with grief as he looked into the sapphire pools before him. "I know your father, penneth. You have nothing to fear from me where your identity is concerned. But your secret will not be kept for long. I-

"Don't let them hurt me," Legolas whispered. "That is why I didn't tell Seregeth until my time with him was nearly over – I thought that might be incentive for him to… I don't know. But it made me feel safer."

"Let me finish," Glorfindel said softly. "When your secret comes out, I want you to know and remember that no-one will use it against you. You _will_ be safe here, whether your identity is known or not. Do you understand that?"

Legolas let out a shaky breath and raised his eyes, blinking back tears. "Yes, my Lord. I understand, and will not forget it."

"Good boy," Glorfindel murmured. He held the Elfling's gaze for a moment, before taking one of the small hands in his own. "Come. We will go to Lord Elrond's house, and you will be given some hot food, better than that which I have been able to give you over the last week."

As the small group rode on through the thinning trees, the twins glanced at each other, not a word passing between them. They had heard some of the conversation between the seneschal and Elfling, but that was not to say they understood it. Elrohir opened his mouth as if to say something, but Elladan shot him a sharp look, and shook his head to dispel the inevitable question.

"Not now," he muttered.

Elrohir looked straight ahead as they entered the courtyard, and a smile suddenly appeared on his face – Lord Elrond was standing nearby, talking quietly with a guard. "Adar!" the young Elf called, dismounting and running across the yard.

The Peredhil turned quickly, raising an eyebrow in surprise as his son all but pounced on him. "By the Stars, child. If you jumped with much more force, I would be on the ground," he said, though he smiled all the same.

"I am sorry, but I _have_ missed you," Elrohir replied, drawing back from the embrace. "And although I enjoyed travelling, I am glad to be home."

"Evidently," Elrond said dryly. "I am pleased to see that you have returned with all limbs intact this time. You always seem to find trouble, whether you are supervised or not."

"That is a rather unfair comment," Elladan said. He led his horse towards his father, and embraced the elder Elf with his spare arm. "We do not go looking for trouble. It just finds us."

Legolas watched the laughing family in silent nostalgia, before pulling his attention away to look over his shoulder at Glorfindel. "How did you know?" he asked quietly. "How did you guess who I am?"

"The name in the book, and your reaction to my reading it aloud," the seneschal answered. "And you have his eyes. In fact, there is much about you that I have seen in him."

"You said before that you know him," Legolas whispered.

"I do."

"Are you friends?"

"Yes."

"Why have I never met you before?"

"Not many Elves travel from Imladris to Mirkwood unless it is unavoidable," Glorfindel replied. "The road is not as safe as it was. But you have met me. When you were born, a feast was held in your honour. I attended that."

Legolas looked down at the ground, readying himself to ask the question that he had to know the answer to. "Why didn't… Why did my father not send word to Imladris of my disappearance? If he wanted to find me, surely he would let his allies know so that they would help?"

"I-

"Glorfindel!"

The seneschal lifted the little boy into his arms, and dismounted as the Lord of Rivendell came towards them. "Elrond, mellon-nin, it is good to be back," he said with a smile. "As you can see, we have returned one more than we started out."

"Yes, that had not escaped my notice," the Peredhil replied. He turned to the Elfling, and although his eyes flickered in recognition, his voice was calm as he said: "Welcome to Imladris, penneth."

The child bit on his lower lip and glanced up at Glorfindel, who nodded once. "I am…I am Legolas, Hír-nin," he said quietly. "I thank you for your hospitality, and the kindness that your seneschal and sons have shown me."

"Legolas?" Elrond repeated. "Surely not Legolas Thranduilion?"

"Look at the eyes," Glorfindel said. "How could he not be the King's son?"

The Lord of Imladris nodded, and gestured for the two to walk with him towards the Last Homely House. "There is much indeed that I need to be told. But first of all, the Prince must eat and rest – I deem that he has endured some trials recently, and has not known comfort for some time. That will swiftly be put to rights."

"How do you know?" Legolas asked suddenly. He flushed as a pair of keen grey eyes turned upon him, but he held them with his own. "I am sorry, Hír-nin. I was just wondering if I am as transparent as you made me sound."

Elrond smiled, and rested a hand on the child's soft cheek. "You are far from transparent. You hold many secrets inside your heart. But I am not blind. I can see grief in your mind; and if that is not enough, I see sadness in your face. But I do not yet want to know what has caused your pain. What I want instead is to get you fed and rested as soon as possible. Your wellbeing is the greatest priority."

"I did tell you he is a healer," Glorfindel said apologetically. "And you have been warned of the herbs and medicines."

Elrond merely sniffed. "Legolas, I have not heard from your father in a long while. But I will write to him this very day, so that he knows where you are. I cannot begin to imagine why you were out of Mirkwood, but he must be worried for your safety. I…"

The Elven-lord continued to speak, but Legolas heard no more. Although he had been travelling for seven days with the knowledge that he was going to an Elven haven, not once had he realised what that meant. But now he did, and his heart bloomed with a sudden thrill of happiness – word was going to be sent to his father. They would soon be together again; and perhaps when that happened, he would be able to start putting the past behind him.

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Far away from the Elven realm of Rivendell, Thalion dismounted in the town that had been his home since leaving Seregeth as a boy; and threw a coin to a small child who was waiting nearby to stable horses. He could feel eyes upon his back as he walked, but he did not meet them. Voices called out greetings to him, yet he gave no replies. It was not until two young men came and touched his shoulder that he stopped to make brief conversation with them.

"Captain, you have returned at last," one of the mortals said. "We were beginning to think that you had set up home with the Elves, and were not coming back at all."

"No, you were wrong there," Thalion replied. "I will not be staying here for very long, Curin. I have come to see my sister."

"And her husband, I take it?"

"What?"

The two blonde men glanced at each other in vague confusion. "Her husband," Surin replied. "She and Amarth have been wed for about a month now, they… Captain? Why does that anger you so?"

"He has come back," Thalion snarled. "After what he has done, that scum has the nerve to return? Why was I not informed of this? Were my orders not clear? When I sent you and the other men from Mirkwood, I _told_ you all that if Amarth was seen, a messenger was to be sent to me. Yet he has been living under your noses for a whole month-

"But we _did_ send a messenger," Curin broke in. "As soon as we got back and realised Amarth was here, we dispatched someone with a message for you."

"Who?"

"Elerdin."

Thalion passed a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes tightly as a horrible feeling settled in his stomach. "Elerdin did not reach me. No-one did. Valar, say not that this is happening, not now."

"Captain?"

"Prince Legolas is dead," Thalion said hollowly. "Your messenger must have befallen tragedy on the way to Mirkwood, so I assume he is dead also. It was only…it could not have been even a week back that the child was killed. If only word had reached me. Damn it, this would not have happened!"

"You speak in riddles, Captain," Surin said uncertainly.

"Where is Amarth now?"

"In your sister's home-

Thalion set off at a run, ignoring the calls of the brothers as he drew his sword with a furious snarl. Before his eyes was only an angry red mist that he had seen once before, the one that elicited such violence and rage in him. It intensified as he reached Surwen's house, and burst in through the door. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but Amarth was sitting at the table with an old book. He was on his feet immediately.

"Captain Thalion!" he breathed. "You have returned, I…you…"

"Are you surprised to see me? Did you think that I would spend the rest of my days searching for the Prince, and you would be safe the moment you were rid of him? How dare you!" Thalion roared, swinging his fist into the other's face. "How dare you take the child from his home? How dare you rip that family apart so heartlessly?"

"I did not mean to-

"You killed him! He is dead, his father is fading from grief, and his mother has to leave Arda itself to be free of her pain," Thalion snarled. "You did that. And you knew it would happen."

Amarth looked up, breathing heavily as blood dripped from his nose. "The Prince is dead?" he repeated softly. "Seregeth…killed him? No. I did not think that would happen. I did not expect it to go that far, I… Have you come to avenge him?"

"Scum," Thalion hissed. He struck again with his fists, and this time the other man was sent to the ground. "When you took Legolas, you were thinking only of yourself. Now you learn of his death, and you _still_ think only of yourself! Why should I not kill you, to avenge him?"

"Because I did it all for love!" Amarth cried. "Is it so wrong when it is done for justifiable reasons?"

"Justifiable?" Thalion repeated quietly. "No. Nothing can justify what you have done, _nothing_. You have taken lives, and that is an unforgivable act. There are some things that are not worth committing crimes for, and love is one of them."

"That is not true. You have never loved, so you do not know-

"I know what is right and wrong, and that is more than can ever be said for you," Thalion snapped. "Are you even sorry that Legolas' life has been taken?"

"Yes, I am," Amarth retorted. "I am not as heartless as you might think."

"If that is true, you would not have taken him in the first place! Valar, just looking at you and knowing what dreadful deeds you have committed sickens me, and…" The dark haired man fell silent and took a few breaths, struggling to control his emotions. "I want to kill you, because people like you do not deserve to live. But also, I want to keep you alive so that you can live out the rest of your days with the knowledge of what you have done."

"Whichever you choose will not satisfy you," Amarth said quietly. "_You _will spend the rest of _your_ days regretting the decision."

Thalion moved the tip of his sword to rest against the other's throat, and his eyes flickered in anger as one of his tumultuous thoughts pushed itself to the front of his mind. "The messenger that was sent to me. He did not reach Mirkwood. It was you. You killed him also, is that not so?"

"No. I did."

With a sharp intake of breath, Thalion spun around to face the door. He stared with wide eyes at the pregnant woman before him, but then he nodded slowly as if this was something he had expected. "So, you are with child," he said softly. "How far gone are you?"

"Four months," Surwen replied, her voice almost defiant.

"And, Amarth is the father?"

"Of course."

"You are sure of this?"

"What do you take me for?" the woman snapped.

Thalion swung his sword up to point at his sister, and let out a humorous laugh. "Many things. But I never, _ever_ took you to be a murderer, and I… Are you lying to me? Are you trying to save your husband? Because there is not a lot that can do so."

"I tell no lies," Surwen said quietly, meeting and holding her brother's gaze. "It was I who killed Elerdin, not Amarth."

"If that is so, that means…" Thalion shook his head in disbelief as sudden and painful realisation hit. "Valar, you knew. You knew that the Prince of Mirkwood was with Seregeth. How could you? _You_ of all people."

"Do not judge-

"Silence!" Thalion shouted. "When Amarth left with me for the forest, did you know what he was setting out to do? Did you? Answer me!"

Surwen flinched, and a single tear slipped out from under her dark eyelashes. "Yes," she whispered. "I knew."

"Then you are as evil as he," Thalion said quietly. "You deserve death as much as your husband does – perhaps even more so, because you have experienced Seregeth's cruelty. You knew what you were sending the little boy into, and yet you cared only for yourself."

"But you know now, and that means you can save him," Surwen answered. "What Amarth and I have done is wrong, but surely it can be made better by… Thalion?"

"You do not know," the man laughed. "Valar, you have no idea."

"Of what?"

Amarth rose, and met the fearful eyes of his wife. He dared not look into Thalion's. "The child… He has…" He swallowed, and stared down at the ground. "He is dead. Seregeth killed him."

"No!"

"Believe it," Thalion snarled. "Oh Surwen, don't cry. Don't! You do not deserve to shed tears for Legolas. Seregeth may have taken his life, but you helped to end it – you and your husband."

"What happens now?" Amarth wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders, and pulled her protectively to him. "We are at your mercy, and that means you can kill us to avenge the child, or let us live to avenge him. I do not think that either will ease the grief you feel, but a decision must be made."

Thalion swept a hand through his dark hair and held it there, closing his eyes in despair. "You already know what I will do. If Surwen had not come in, I would have killed you, Amarth. But she is expecting. Two deserve to die, not three. And yet, I cannot even kill just you, because that would leave your unborn child without a father. That is not something I can be guilty of. I am better than that."

"You are," Surwen whispered. "You have _always _been a better person than I."

"Don't compare us," Thalion snapped. "There was a time when I would do anything for you, even stick a knife into my own father. But that has changed. It changed in the very moment that you schemed to take a child from Mirkwood. You are no longer my sister. Everything that we endured together as children, everything that we came through…now it means nothing."

"And my unborn child?" Surwen breathed. "Does _he_ mean nothing?"

"Of course not. A few days ago, someone said to me: the child cannot choose the parents it is born to," Thalion reflected. "Never before have I heard words so true. And ironically, it was Legolas' father who spoke them."

The woman looked away guiltily from her brother, and closed her eyes. "Don't."

"Afraid to hear of all the damage you have caused?" Thalion sneered. He curled his lip in disgust. "Fear not. I will spare you the details. But I digress. Your unborn child does mean something to me. When this ordeal is over, I may not return to live in this town, but rest assured I will come back periodically to ensure that the both of you are doing your duties as parents, and treating your son or daughter as you should. If I find anything – anything at all – that I deem unfit in the child's life, so help me you will regret the day you ever clapped eyes on each other. Hold me to that, because I swear, I will keep that promise."

The words could not be doubted. Thalion kept his sword levelled unwaveringly at the two, his eyes cold with a fury that was almost animalistic in its intensity. But then he was gone, snapping his weapon back into its sheath as he strode out of the house. The slamming of the door behind him made both Amarth and Surwen flinch; and as the echoes resounded in the small room, tears fell like rain from the woman's eyes.

"My brother," she breathed. "I have lost him."

As she sank into a chair and sobbed into her shaking hands, Amarth touched her shoulder and murmured soft words of comfort against her ear, trying to offer her some consolation as she grieved. But he did not grieve. A glint was in his dark eyes as he realised that he had escaped death, and was free. For him, Legolas' fate bought no consequences.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Evening had fallen in the valley of Imladris; and it was with some nervousness that Legolas looked upon the meal that had been set before him. It was not large, but the small portions that he had been served whilst at Seregeth's cottage did not compare to it. The Elves around him had already started to eat, but he was afraid to. Weeks of living under harsh rules and regulations had taught him to be cautious, even with such trivial matters as food and drink.

"Are you well?"

Legolas winced, and looked up guiltily at the others. "I am, my Lord. I just…the food…"

"If it is not to your satisfaction, I can have it sent away," Elrond said in concern. "Tell me what you would like to eat, and I will do my best to provide you with it. You only have to ask if you want for anything."

"No, the food looks and smells lovely, but I don't… I am unsure of what to do," Legolas replied quietly.

"What do you mean by that, penneth?"

Legolas bit on his lower lip, wishing desperately that the twins would look away. He knew that his face was flushed. "It sounds strange to you, my Lord, that I do not know how to eat a meal. But I have not lived freely for many weeks. When Seregeth fed me, I was only allowed to eat when he told me to. If I took too much food, I would be punished. I know that will not happen here, but…" The Elfling paused, and lowered his eyes to the floor. "I am sorry, my Lord. I should not be so ungrateful."

"You are not being so," Elrond said gently. "And I understand your hesitation. We all do. But you must eat, even if it is a small amount. We will not force anything upon you."

The words were innocent, but Legolas found his mind flashing back to the night on which Taras' heavy body had almost been forced upon him. For a few seconds he could feel hot breath against his ear as cruel words were whispered, could feel coarse hands against his neck, and… He snapped his eyes open as another hand alighted on his shoulder, and he jerked himself away sharply, shuddering as disgust swept over him.

"Don't touch me!"

"Peace, Legolas," Elrond said quietly. "You are safe here. You will not be hurt by anyone. This you already know. Look inside yourself, and you will see it."

The Prince drew a deep breath, and nodded shakily. "Forgive me, Hír-nin. I don't know what happened, I…I'm sorry."

"You need not apologise," Glorfindel murmured.

Elrond suddenly pushed back his chair, a strange expression on his normally serene face. "Legolas, would you mind leaving the table to come with me for a few moments? There is a matter I would speak of with you."

"Of course." The child followed the Elven-lord out of the dining hall and down the corridor; and it was with a heavy heart indeed that he did so. His manners at the table had been far from good, and he was quite sure that he had angered his host. A reprimand at the very least was inevitable – he only hoped he did not receive more.

Elrond stopped before an oak door, and pushed it open to reveal his office. "In there, penneth. Take a seat before the desk."

Legolas obeyed, watching nervously as the elder Elf went to stand quietly at the balcony doors, looking out into the night. He wondered what was going to happen. He liked and trusted Elrond, remembering that Thranduil had always spoken highly of him. But that was not enough to quell his sudden fear that punishment was just around the corner. The silence was the worst part, and the waiting.

"Are you going to beat me?"

Elrond visibly started, and turned quickly to face the little boy. "What? No, of course not! By Elbereth, what makes you ask such a question of me?"

"I was not well behaved at the dining table, and I thought that you had brought be here so that I could be punished," Legolas whispered. "Am I not going to be?"

"Valar, no. Whilst you are under my protection, I would never allow anyone to hurt you, and I most certainly would not do so myself," Elrond replied firmly. "I brought you here because I want to speak with you away from everyone else. Fear not, Legolas. You have done nothing to anger me. It takes much to do that."

"You were angry this morning," the child said slowly. "When Lord Glorfindel showed you my still visible wounds, you were very angry."

"I was," Elrond agreed. "But, to whom do you think that anger was directed?"

"To Seregeth."

The Elf-lord narrowed his eyes at the name, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes. Not to you, but to the man who hurt you so. Although, I think it fair to say that he deserves much more than anger."

"I am sorry," Legolas said quickly. "For asking if you were going to hurt me, I mean. I just had to know. It was always the waiting, the not knowing that I hated especially."

"Of course." Elrond paused, and took a seat opposite the child. When he spoke, his voice was grave. "So far, you have only told me bits and pieces of your time with Seregeth, and I understand why. You are reluctant to speak of him too much – naturally so – perhaps out of fear or grief conceived by your trauma. But I must ask a question of you, and it is very important that you answer me as best you can."

"I will try."

Elrond leaned forwards slightly, and drew a deep breath before continuing. "Whilst in the dining hall, I spoke words to you that elicited a reaction I did not expect. I said 'we will not force anything upon you'; and that frightened you. Can you tell me why?"

"Because…because I…" Legolas looked away as shame washed over him, and shook his head. "It did frighten me, but…"

"Very well, say nothing more," Elrond interjected gently, sensing the boy's struggles. "Let me ask you something else. Whilst living with Seregeth, did he or anyone else use you, use your _body_ in ways that they should not have? You do not have to speak. Just nod or shake your head, little one. But I need to know."

"It wasn't…" This time Legolas looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes. "It wasn't Seregeth. But he had a friend – Taras."

"What did Taras do to you?" Elrond pressed softly.

"He tried to touch me," the Elfling whispered. "He tried to touch me and…and do other things. I don't want to say, my Lord. I cannot. All I knew was that if I let him win I would die, because I could never be strong enough to survive such an attack. So I fought him off as best as I was able to, and he left me alone."

"He did nothing?" The Peredhil's voice was quiet, yet the cold fury contained within was evident. "You stopped Taras before he could inflict irreparable damage?"

"I stopped him," Legolas murmured. "I stopped him."

Elrond rose as the little boy started to cry quietly, and touched a hand to one of the shaking shoulders. "Listen to me, penenth. There are men such as Seregeth and Taras who seek to destroy the innocent, and we all discover that at a point in our lives. But you have discovered it in the cruellest way possible, and nothing will ever change that. You have suffered. You have been abused. But you have to know that none of it was your fault. You did _nothing_ to deserve what they did."

"He was touching me," Legolas whispered. "I felt so…so dirty. When I remember it I can still feel his hands trying to reach underneath my tunic, I can smell him, and it makes me want to scream And as I remember it I try to believe that it was all them, but I cannot. I just feel ashamed."

"Ashamed? No. No, do not ever…" Elrond closed his eyes, his heart aching for the young victim. "There are some pains that cannot be healed by words alone, and this is one of them. You will hurt for a time yet, and you will be confused and angry and afraid. But you will survive this. With the help and constant support from your family and friends, you will come out on the other side stronger than ever. I have faith in you."

Legolas looked up, and brushed away the tears that had dampened his cheeks. "You do?"

"Of course. You are very brave," Elrond said quietly. "There is already a strength inside of you that I think will be known to many in years to come. One day, that strength will help to save lives and change fates. I see that in you."

"Can you see into the future?"

The Elf-lord laughed at the sudden childish bluntness, and gave a brief incline of his head. "Let us say instead that I can see further than most. Is that a satisfactory answer for you, little one?"

"Yes, thank you." Legolas paused, and glanced sideways at the Peredhil. "You are related to the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, are you not? Only, my father says that she can see the future by looking into a wash basin. Is that true, my Lord?"

"I do not think that your father was being entirely truthful," Elrond replied, hiding a smile. "He and Galadriel are not the greatest of friends, and-

"My Lord!"

The two Elves looked up quickly as a guard burst into the room; and the elder of the two gave an irritated frown. "What is the meaning of this? I am busy with the Prince."

"I know, my Lord, and I ask for your forgiveness," the guard replied breathlessly. "But there is a situation in the courtyard which demands your attention. I would not disturb you if it was unimportant."

"Very well. Legolas, you may return to the dining hall now, or to your room," Elrond said gently. As the child left, he turned grey eyes upon the guard. "I hope that this is indeed important, to have called me away from him."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Elves of Mirkwood rode through the woods bordering the valley of Imladris, their horses' hooves making little noise upon the leafy floor as they went. Elven eyes of guards watched them from the trees, but none made any comment of the scrutiny. Words had become a luxury a week ago, spoken only when it was necessary; and even then they were used sparsely. The King spoke not at all. He had fallen silent on the day of discovering his son's death, and there was nothing, understandably, that could elicit speech from him.

Alondir looked across at the younger Elf, wondering if an attempt at conversation would be fruitless. Yes, it probably would, but the need to at least try was strong in him. "Thranduil?" he began softly. "Thranduil, mellon-nin. We have reached Imladris."

Silver eyes were slowly raised, and they flicked briefly around the woods before alighting on the commander. He winced to see them, and almost wanted to look away. Never before had he seen anything quite so tragic, so sad. And it hurt. It hurt, knowing that the pain reflected in those beautiful pools was mirrored in Thranduil's soul. Elves were not meant to suffer so. Such intense grief was fatal.

"But you have been strong," Alondir murmured, forgetting the soldiers riding a way behind them as he reached across to touch his friend's shoulder. "You will not reply to me, I know that. But you can hear me, and you must know that I am so proud of you. Your wife and son would be also."

Thranduil turned his gaze upwards, and watched the moon in silence. He attempted to think up some sort of answer, but he knew that even had one formed, it would not have left his lips. Beside him, the commanding officer exhaled deeply, but he felt no guilt. It was not wrong. Only in his troubled mind could he be alone with his thoughts and memories; and intrusions only dragged him back into a reality that he did not wish to know any more. All that he had left now was solitude, and he could not lose that as well as everything else.

"If I could take your pain away, I would have done so long ago," Alondir said quietly. "But I cannot, no matter how much I want to. Elrond will help you, though. He will help us all to survive this. He will. He will save us."

As they rode across the bridge and into Rivendell, Thranduil shook his head in vague derision, shutting out the reassurances of his friend. He did not want to listen to them any more, he should have stopped doing so long ago – there was never any truth to them: only lies and deception; and those betrayals stung deeply. Although, did it really matter? Too much pain existed already in his life for him to fear further hurt.

The Elven ruler exhaled deeply as he and the soldiers entered the courtyard. Greetings were extended from the Imladris Elves – evidently a message had been sent ahead to announce the arrival – but the replies that were given were grim and quiet. Thranduil, of course, remained silent. He did not want to be there. But nor did he want to be in Mirkwood. Valinor, perhaps? No. The Halls of Mandos? No. He didn't know, he didn't care. All he was doing was living monotonously, following a path that seemed to be leading him nowhere.

Alondir dismounted and went towards the Rivendell commander, a friend he had trained with centuries ago. "Tinerian, I must see Lord Elrond immediately," he said quickly. "It is an urgent matter."

"Lord Elrond?"

"Yes. Valar, say not that he is away from here," Alondir breathed.

"No, he is here. A guard was sent to him when we learnt of your arrival," Commander Tinerian answered. "I am merely surprised. You were not expected here. And your King even less so."

"It is because of my King that we _are_ here," the Mirkwood Elf said, his voice low. "He needs Elrond's healing skills."

"But, surely you have come for Prince Legolas?"

"Prince Legolas? What does he have to do with this? And, how do you know-

"Commander!"

Alondir turned, and felt a great weight leave his chest as his eyes fell upon Rivendell's Lord. "Ai, never before have I felt such joy at seeing you. It does my heart good, mellon-nin."

"How is it that you arrived here so soon? I was not expecting you for at least another week," Elrond answered. "I sent a messenger but this morning. Did you intercept him?"

"A messenger?"

"Yes." The Elf-lord hesitated, and looked towards the King and the soldiers. He wondered if they even knew that Legolas was… "Alondir, why are you here? I do not think it is for the reason that I called you."

"More than likely not. This will come as a shock to you, I do not doubt, but…" The silver haired Elf lowered his eyes, and let out a deep sigh of breath. "This is not easy for me to say. My Prince is…he is dead. My Queen is due to sail any day now. My King is fading, and only you can save him. _That_ is why we are here."

Elrond stared in wonder for a moment, before looking towards the house. Glorfindel was standing there watching, but at a nod from his Lord he left without a word. "Whatever I may have expected," the Peredhil said slowly, "this was not it. May I see the King?"

"This way."

Thranduil had dismounted and was standing quietly by his horse, listening to but not really hearing the conversations around him. He looked lost, unsure of what to do. It pained Elrond to see the usually strong character so diminished; and as he looked upon the hurting Elf, he was reminded sharply of the child who had lost a brother so many years ago.

"Mellon-nin," he said softly, "I can only begin to imagine how deep your pain must run. But it will leave you sooner than you can know. You will be free of it."

"He will not give you a reply," Alondir murmured.

Thranduil glanced briefly at the commander, before turning his gaze upon Elrond. "I know not why I am here," he said, his voice low. "You think that you can heal me? No. It cannot be done. Even your powers are not great enough for this."

"Perhaps not," Elrond agreed. "But your heart will be whole before this night is out, believe that. There are other ways to heal."

"Vilya?" Thranduil hissed. "I will not be prey to that sorcery. I do not want to be. Am I asking so much? Solitude is not wrong. Wanting to be alone with my grief and pain is not wrong, yet I have been dragged across Arda so that you can use your magic and rid me of what is natural. _That_ is wrong."

Elrond flicked his eyes around the courtyard, wondering if any of the dispersing soldiers had heard the mention of his Ring. When he looked back at the younger ruler, he shook his head slowly. "I will play no part in healing you. Nor will Vilya. You will be saved by something much stronger – love. A child's love."

"What does that mean?" Alondir cut in tersely.

"I know little of what has happened in the last month, but I know enough to piece together a few events. For some reason, Legolas went missing. Commander, you lost your Prince; Thranduil, you lost your son," Elrond answered, letting his gaze rest on both of the Mirkwood Elves. "Since his disappearance, you have been searching for him, I assume? Somehow – I do not know _how_, I do not know _why _– you have been led to believe that he has passed on. But I can tell you now, he is-

"Ada!"

Thranduil whirled to face the Last Homely House, his eyes searching desperately for the child who sounded so much like his own. And there he was: a thin Elfling with blonde hair that hung below his shoulders, he was running as fast as his small legs could carry him into the courtyard and… Valar. The Elven-king could only stare in wonder and fear, not hearing the cries of joy from Alondir and the remaining soldiers, nor the words that seemed so unbelievable from Elrond: _Legolas lives_.

"How can this be?" he breathed. "Tell me I am not dreaming. Please…"

"You dream not. This is real," Elrond said gently. "That is your son. Do not be afraid to go to him."

Blinded by tears that fought each other to escape, Thranduil stumbled forwards and fell to his knees, pulling the child into his arms and holding the small figure as tightly as he could. Legolas allowed himself to be enveloped in the embrace, sobbing as emotions overwhelmed him: relief, joy, love. They were too much for him to understand. He tangled his hands in the material of his father's tunic, and… The action brought more tears. Only a matter of minutes ago, such a small pleasure had been denied him.

"I thought you were lost," Thranduil whispered. "I thought that you had been taken from me, that you were… Oh, Legolas. Legolas, my son. You have been returned to me at last…"

"I didn't think that I would ever see you again," the boy choked out. "And that scared me, it scared me so much. But I tried to be brave, Ada. I tried for you."

Thranduil pulled back from the embrace and rested a trembling hand on one of his son's pale cheeks, letting his fingers play over every feature and through the golden hair, as if to further reassure himself that his child really did stand before him. How could this be happening, and so swiftly too? Before, his world and his life had meant nothing because Legolas was not there. But now… He closed his eyes against more tears, though they fell nonetheless.

"Do you cry for the same reason as I?" the Prince asked softly. "Are your tears ones of joy?"

"More so than they have ever been," Thranduil replied. Exhaling shakily, he pulled his child back into his arms and buried his face in the flaxen hair, struggling to believe that this was happening to him. To feel so much joy after such great grief and hurt was almost painful in itself.

As he was held in a grip that he had feared he would not know again, Legolas looked over his father's shoulder, letting his eyes roam over the soldiers who he had been friends with in Mirkwood, and finally allowing them to alight upon the commander. Alondir saluted, and the little boy smiled through his tears. It was over. It was _finally _over. He was back with the people he knew and loved, and… No. There was one missing. Laerwen was not there.

"Ada, did Nana come with you?" he asked. "Or did she stay at home?"

Thranduil stood, and lifted his son into his arms. He noted absently that Legolas was both thinner and lighter than he should be, but looking into the child's earnest face made the thought vanish. "No, ion-nin. She is not here. She is…waiting for you, though."

"Where?"

As the Mirkwood ruler struggled to form an answer for his son, Elrond stepped forwards and rested a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You have many questions to ask, penneth. But your father is weary, as are you. I suggest that after having some food, you both sleep. Then when the morning comes, you may talk to your heart's content. Is that fair?"

"Yes, it is," Legolas replied. "Thank you. My Lord, I do not want to be of any trouble to you, but may I change rooms so that I can stay with my father for at least this night? I…I do not want to be away from him."

"I would have it no other way, and I am sure that he would not either," Elrond answered, glancing at the younger ruler. "I will have you put into a room together."

Thranduil nodded his thanks, before looking back at the child in his arms. As though for the first time, he noticed fading bruises and healing cuts, not to mention the missing front tooth. His eyes narrowed coldly. "What happened to cause these injuries, ion-nin? Who hurt you so? Was it-

"Tomorrow," Legolas cut in. "Lord Elrond said that we should wait until the morning before talking. I agree with him. I want this night to be a happy one."

"And so it shall be," Thranduil replied. But he wanted to know. Now that he was reunited with his son, the _need_ to know was strong indeed.

As the Elves walked across the courtyard and up the steps, Thranduil felt a pair of grey eyes trained on him. He glanced sideways at Elrond; and although no words passed between them, he knew that the elder ruler was silently asking after Laerwen, searching for confirmation that the news of her sailing was truth. The Mirkwood Elf hesitated for a painful few seconds, but he nodded once as he felt the Queen's pendant against his chest. There was little that he could deny any more.

"I know not what power is in me to do this," Elrond said softly, "but I will bring her back to you. There is time – a small amount, yes – but time enough to save your wife."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**I told you guys there would be some happiness - we just had to get through all of the hurt first! Now, I know that Seregeth wasn't in this chapter, but I haven't forgotten about him. You'll be seeing him again next chapter. **

**I hope you enjoyed this, and I'll try and reply to reviews for the last chapter when I've had my dinner!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	19. Chapter 19

Legolas woke early the next morning, and a sense of confusion was upon him until everything from the previous night came flooding back. Of course. Thranduil had arrived in Rivendell in the evening, and the two had had their joyous reunion in the courtyard; and then he had fallen asleep held tightly in his father's strong arms – and that, apparently, was where he had stayed all night.

The Elven-king was still asleep, and Legolas was unsure how to move without waking him. That was the last thing he wanted to do – he knew that the Elves from Mirkwood were weary, having been pressed hard by Alondir to reach Imladris as swiftly as possible. They did deserve sleep. But still, it could not hurt to try, the boy reflected, as he tried to slip out from underneath his father's arm. It tightened on him almost immediately, trapping him.

"Where are you going?"

Legolas winced. "I am sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No," Thranduil lied. He sat up, and pushed some blonde hair off his face, before turning his eyes upon the child. "Are you well, ion-nin? Where were you trying to get to?"

"You will know, if you allow me to go there," the Prince replied. "I want to show you something, Ada. And then I think we should talk about…things. I would rather we spoke privately, away from everyone else."

The King nodded his understanding and leaned back against the soft pillows, watching as his son went towards a desk at the side of the room. "It is yet early. Even the sun has not risen. Would you not prefer to have a few hours more sleep?"

"I do not think I could, now that I am awake, Legolas said. "You can go back to sleep, though. I do not mind waiting."

"No, no. It matters not." Thranduil bit on the inside of his cheek to stifle a yawn, and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, not realising that in doing so he looked uncannily like his Elfling. "Besides, I am interested as to what you have to show me."

"On the day that I left the palace – the last day that you saw me until now – you gave me a book," Legolas began. "It had been yours as a child, given to you by _your _father. The fact that you trusted me with it was an honour, and that was why I made a promise to you. Do you remember that promise, Ada?"

"You said that you would look after the book," Thranduil replied softly. "Ion-nin, it matters not to me that you have lost it or-

"But I haven't! I kept my word," Legolas cut in. He pulled the book from behind his back, and held it out as he climbed onto the bed once more. "It was perhaps a small promise, but the most important one I had ever made – it was all I had left of you, Ada. And for that reason, I treasured it."

"How did you…?"

"I don't know," the Prince admitted slowly. "There were many times when I thought that I would lose the book or have it taken, but I could not let that happen. I had to hold on to it, because it meant – it _still_ means – so much to me. It helped to keep me strong. I rarely read it. But I looked at it; and I looked at your name written on the first page, and that was a constant reminder of who I am. It kept me going, even when my days were dark."

Thranduil touched his son's cheek with a hand that trembled as he asked questions that he was half afraid to know the answers to. "Why were your days dark? How were you hurt so? Will you tell me now, please?"

Legolas did. Starting at the very beginning from when he met Thalion in the forest, he went all the way to the rescue conducted by Glorfindel and the twins. He left out not one event, not one harsh word nor painful blow; and by the time he was finished the sun was awake, and more than a few tears had been shed by both himself and his father. Thranduil had said little during the story – though his eyes flashed with anger often – but when Taras' part came up, then he spoke.

"This man is not someone who I will allow to live," he vowed. "If it is the last thing I ever do, I will find him and make him pay for what he has done."

"Don't," Legolas replied. "Emotionally, Taras did more damage to me than Seregeth. He caused my heart to break, Ada, and it was the worst feeling that I have ever known. Because of his cruelty, however brief it was, I wanted to die. But now I have been saved, and I want nothing to do with men anymore – not with Seregeth, Amarth, Thalion _or_ Taras. If you were to find him, it would only prolong the pain."

Thranduil was silent for a moment, struggling to believe and accept that such a hateful act had almost been committed against his son. But then he looked up, and said: "Why not Thalion? He did nothing to cause you harm."

No. But he is a human," Legolas said quietly. "Is it wrong of me to be so prejudiced against him because of his race, Ada? I met him before Amarth took me, and I warmed to him. But that means nothing now."

"It is not wrong," Thranduil murmured.

"The day after Taras tried to… Seregeth set me some work to do. As I struggled to complete the chore, I knew suddenly that it didn't matter whether Criltha came back to save me. How could it, when my heart was broken and I was dying anyway?" Legolas continued slowly. "I hope that wherever she is, she is happy. She deserved freedom as much as I did."

Thranduil winced as he realised that the child did not yet know. He had to tell him. To keep him in the dark would be immoral. "Legolas, there is something that you have to be told," he began. "When I arrived at Seregeth's home, there was a young woman inside the cottage. She was very badly hurt, and we were…it was too late for her. She had already passed on."

"It was not Criltha," Legolas said, defiance making itself known in his voice. "She would not long have been free, and for her to die so soon after escaping would be cruel."

"I know. But life is very cruel, often to those who least deserve it," Thranduil answered quietly. "Seregeth told me her name. He said that she was Criltha, the girl you helped escape."

"No…"

The Elven ruler exhaled and pulled his son against his chest, gently stroking the golden hair. "I am so sorry, tithen-las. I know she was a friend of yours. But she did not go painfully. The look on her face when we found her was one of peace. She was buried by the soldiers, underneath the trees. Rest assured that she is happy now, and truly free."

"I can believe that, but it makes the knowledge that she is dead not much easier," Legolas replied softly. "I did not know her for very long, but we went through much together."

"I do not doubt that," Thranduil sighed. He instinctively touched his child's cheek, brushing away the tears. "What happened then, penneth? You said that Seregeth had work for you."

"Yes. But I couldn't do it – I felt tired, and too weak. He saw that I was slacking, and he came out to punish me for it," Legolas murmured. "He beat me, Ada. It wasn't the worst he ever did, but it was bad enough. Glorfindel and the twins told me later that they had seen him treating me so, and it was because of that that they decided to help me – although, they also said there was no decision to be made."

"No, I should think not," Thranduil replied. "How did they get you out of there?"

"Elladan disguised himself, and pretended to be a…a… well, someone like Taras, so that he could get me on my own," Legolas explained. "Lord Glorfindel and Elrohir restrained Seregeth, and that was the end of it. They brought me here."

The King nodded, and turned his child's face up so that he could look into the sapphire eyes. "There are many Elves older than you who would not be able to withstand that man's cruelty. But you did, Legolas. I was always proud of you. _Always_. But this just… Ion-nin, for you to have survived this makes me even more so. I did not think that I could love any more, but I have been proved wrong."

"Ada, I have told you everything that I can, and I have answered your questions," Legolas said slowly. "But now _I _have some things to ask of you. Please, be honest as I have."

"What do you want to know?"

"You have been speaking of love and pride, but if you _do _love me, and if you _are_ proud of me, why did you not come?" Legolas moved away from the elder Elf, and sat coldly at the far end of the bed. "Five weeks you left me there. I called for you. I prayed for you to come. But you didn't."

"Do you think that…? Valar, do you really think that I left you there purposefully?" Thranduil asked, stunned. "Legolas, how could I have possibly known where you were? You could have been lost in Mirkwood, you could have been captured by Orcs, you could have found your way to Laketown. I even feared that you were dead. Think what you will of me, but do not ever think that I let you stay with Seregeth knowing where you were."

The boy exhaled, and crawled back up the bed to lean against his father's chest again. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Ada. I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I just felt… It was strange. I felt the sudden need to blame someone for what happened to me, and you were the one who received that blame. I know it wasn't your fault. I always did."

"Believe me, I understand how you feel," Thranduil sighed. "After suffering a trauma, we go through different stages of healing, and we experience different ways to ease the pain. Blame and guilt are natural. I know."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Legolas looked up, but the glint in his father's eyes told him not to press further. "There is something else – just one more question. Why are you wearing Nana's pendant? I noticed it last night, and it made me wonder."

"Of course it did," Thranduil muttered. He touched the necklace, letting his fingers rest against the cool crystals for a moment, before pulling the chain over his head. "Your mother gave it to me so that… She wanted me to give it to _you_ if – when – I found you. And now I have. So, it belongs to you."

"To me?"

Thranduil nodded slowly, but he made no attempt to relinquish his hold on the pendant. If anything, he only held it tighter. "Yes. It is yours. She also asked me to tell you that she…she tried to be strong."

"What does that mean?" Legolas whispered. "Ada, what are you trying to say?"

"The grief that your disappearance conceived was too much for your mother to bear," Thranduil answered softly. "As each day passed, a little more of our hope died. It hurt so much, ion-nin, and she could not withstand it any longer. Ten days ago, she said that if you were not found within a week, she would depart for the Grey Havens, and sail into the West."

"No! That cannot be true!" Legolas cried. "Nana has not gone."

"She will not yet have reached the Havens," Thranduil murmured. "Lord Elrond is going to do all he can to bring her back."

"Then, it is not too late?"

The Elven-king shook his head at the expression on the child's face. "No. But do not raise your hopes too high. Do not forget that the possibility still exists that she will have left before Elrond can find her."

"It isn't fair," Legolas whispered, digging his knuckles into his eyes as the tears came. "Have we not been put through enough? I don't want to lose her, Ada. I can't. We did not even say goodbye; and if she were to sail, it would be years before…"

"I know," Thranduil answered quietly. "If she knew that you lived, she would have stayed. But for all we _did _know, you were dead. Your mother had to save herself, Legolas. She had to."

"I do not blame her," the Prince said in a low voice. "I want to be angry at her for not being here, but I cannot. It would be selfish of me. Say only that she would be safe and happy in Valinor, and I will be as content as I possibly can be, with the knowledge that she is gone burning in my mind."

"Rest assured she would be safe. She may never be truly happy until she lays eyes upon you again, but that is not something we can change." Thranduil paused, and held the pendant out to his son. "Here. Take it. When you wear this, she will be with you."

Legolas shook his head, and looked away from the necklace. "I want you to keep it for a while. When I know for certain that she has left, then I will wear it. I just…I do not want to believe yet that she is gone if there is a chance that she can come back. Do you understand that?"

Thranduil nodded but said nothing, silenced by the grief that came from so many places: the diminished – though still agonising – pain that he felt inside; the sadness in his only child's eyes; the understanding that such tragic circumstances could exist in Middle-earth. He looked away, focusing his gaze instead on a blue plumed bird that flitted around outside the window. He didn't really see it, though, so caught up in thoughts and reflections was he.

Life _was_ cruel. There was no disputing that. He had known it every day of Legolas' disappearance; and even though he was now reunited with his son, the knowledge did not vanish, the feelings of resentment and anger towards those who shaped their lives did not dissipate. How could it? They were close, so close to reaching the end of this trauma. But healing and freedom from pain would remain at bay for a while yet if Laerwen could not be reached.

'_I just want it to be over,' _Thranduil thought desperately. _'For myself, yes. But even more so for my child. He deserved none of what he received, but this is just so wrong. This prolonged suffering, this seemingly endless heartache. Valar, when will you let us be free?'_

"I want you to wear the pendant," Legolas said softly. "Please."

As he took Laerwen's necklace and put it back over his father's head, the Prince released a deep exhale of breath. Thranduil said nothing, just watching as tumultuous emotions raged in the blue pools before him, and wondering at the fact that tears were so far away. The thought had only just entered his mind when suddenly it was like a wall collapsing into rubble. Legolas struggled to hold his composure for a moment more, but then his small face crumpled, and silver droplets rained down.

He threw himself forwards almost violently, flinging his arms around the Elven-king's neck and holding on with surprising strength as all barriers broke and he allowed himself to sob. Thranduil held the boy, desperate to offer more comfort, but unable to find the words. There were none. He knew that. He had lost his own mother as a child, and he knew only too well that there was little to ease the pain.

"She should be here," Legolas breathed. "I need her. Ada, I do not understand, and I so want to. Why is this happening to us? We have done nothing wrong, so why are we being punished? It is unjust."

"You ask questions that I have so many times before," Thranduil sighed. "I wanted answers. I was desperate for them. But the truth…there are no answers. At least, not for us. We just have to accept that for reasons which will always remain unknown, we were chosen for this path."

"I want to leave it," Legolas said in a low voice. "I wanted to step off it a long time ago."

The Mirkwood ruler nodded slowly, gently stroking the golden hair of his son. "We will survive this, ion-nin. Believe that. Trust in it."

"Not so long ago I would not have been able to, because survival seemed impossible," the Elfling replied, brushing away some of his tears. "But hearing you say the words gives me some hope."

"Good. I am glad of that." Thranduil hesitated, and tucked Laerwen's pendant out of sight in his shirt, away from Legolas' eyes. The shining pools had been fixed on it. "We have spent so much time talking, it is now late morning. You must be hungry-

There was a knock on the door, and after a pause, Alondir came into the room. He himself had been up and about for a good few hours, and the sight of his King and Prince still abed made him smile. Though, he would have it no other way. The two of them together was a sight he had sorely missed, and only yesterday, something he had never expected to see again.

"Good morning," he greeted them. "I hope that you both slept well."

"Of course. And yourself?"

"Never better."

Thranduil nodded, and shot his friend a sideways glance as silence fell. "Alondir? Was there something that you wanted? Or have you just come to stand?"

"No. I bring word from Lord Elrond, although…" The commander paused, his eyes flashing a warning. "I think it best that we speak privately of this."

"I have been told about my mother," Legolas said quietly. "If it is news of her that you bring, you may speak freely before me. Is that no so, Ada?"

Thranduil hesitated. He had not said that, and the need to protect his only child was strong inside of him. But he could not send the boy away either. "Yes, very well," he conceded. "If it is tidings of Laerwen, we can talk here."

"Lord Elrond contacted Lady Galadriel this morning," Alondir reported, hiding a smile as his friend's eyes narrowed. "She searched for the Queen, and the word that she sent back was good. Your wife has not yet reached the Havens. She has perhaps a few more days left of the journey."

"Then, we can bring her back," Legolas breathed.

"Quiet," Thranduil said, his voice sharper than he had intended. He glanced apologetically at his son, before snapping his gaze back to the commander. "What advice did Elrond give, Alondir? Even on the swiftest horse, we could not hope to reach her."

"That is true," the elder Elf agreed. "But there is a way. Word has been sent for help, and it should arrive by tomorrow."

"But, how are we going to get to the Havens?"

"We will fly."

"We will… What?" Thranduil blinked in surprise. "On whose wings?"

Alondir allowed himself a smile, as he replied: "Gwaihir's."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So. You have returned."

Thalion looked into the blue eyes of his father, and said nothing. He had come back to the cottage more than once after discovering the truth, and he had come back with a resolve to kill the one who had caused so much pain. But Seregeth had been unconscious, intense thirst and agony throwing him into darkness. After deliberating and arguing with himself, Thalion had removed the knives from the older man's hands, treated his wounds, tied him back up with the strange silver rope, and trickled much needed water into his mouth.

Why? He did not know. He could have just killed Seregeth then and there, and that would have been the end of it. But he had been unable to. Deep down in the pits of his subconscious, it was because he was loath to end his father's life without a last exchange of words. Death was final. There was no coming back from it, and the two men had to speak together one more time.

"You cannot stay away," Seregeth sneered through lips that were cracked and dry. His voice was hoarse, and he struggled to make the words form after another two days without anything to quench his thirst. "This place must call to you. Or is it I whom you miss so much?"

"I have brought you water."

"Charming."

"You will have to let me help you," Thalion continued. "I am not untying you yet, although I want to. You have been held there for a week now, and I must say it is a sorry sight indeed that my eyes behold. Seeing you, a man of such _power_, sitting helpless in your own blood and filth…"

Seregeth raised his head, and stared defiantly at his son. "Why have you come here? Taunting me so is childish, and I have no time for it, if it is all you wish to do. Mayhap you should just go. Leave me here to die alone."

"Die?" The younger man laughed softly, and shook his dark head. "No. I am not going to kill you. At least, not yet."

"Give me some water, then," Seregeth snapped.

Thalion started to move, but then he stopped and looked through narrowed eyes at the other. "Say for a moment that I do find it within me to untie you, or at least loosen your bonds. I want your word that you will not try anything. If you do, I _will_ kill you – that I swear."

"Release me."

"Is that the best I will receive?" Thalion asked, drawing his knife as he knelt beside his father. He started to carve at the ropes that Thranduil had previously cut, his teeth gritted in concentration. "Where did she get this cord?"

"Who?"

"The woman who took her life. You said that it was she who bound you."

"Ah." Seregeth leaned back against the beam, and a small smile appeared on his face. "Yes, I remember. It is strong indeed. And beautiful to look upon. I have had time to do that, you see."

"It _is_ a lovely thing," Thalion murmured, pausing to run his fingers over the rope. "Silken, too. I had not noticed that before. Its looks are deceiving."

"You have not got very far," Seregeth noted. "Your blade is useless against it. Perhaps you should try another one. Thranduil's, maybe? You threw it by the door when you took it from my hand."

Thalion sheathed his knife; and as he moved towards the door, his eyes fell upon the other dagger, and narrowed in confusion. "That does not belong to you," he said slowly. "Now that I see it with eyes unclouded by emotion, I know that it could not have been the girl's either. There are jewels in the hilt, and Elven lettering upon the blade."

"How strange."

"Who does it belong to?"

"Hmm…I did not catch his name."

Thalion snatched up Glorfindel's knife, and slashed it easily through the bonds around his father. They fell away at once, and he drew a sharp breath of surprise. "Valar… This blade is Elven. The rope too. But the Mirkwood Elves did not restrain you, so how…?"

Seregeth rested his head against the beam, wincing as feeling slammed back into his body. It came so quickly that it was painful, and he hissed in discomfort, losing in the narcissistic battle to keep quiet. As blood started to rush to the limbs that had been so constrained, he looked up at his son, and a small smile made itself known. Thalion was beginning to realise the truth.

"Thranduil's Elves were not the first here," the young man muttered. "There were others. They came here before the girl died, they must have. And that means… By the Gods, Legolas was still alive! They took him, and did this to you."

As Thalion continued to speak incoherently to himself, Seregeth got carefully to his feet, hurting but too proud to show that he was weak. He used the beam as support, holding onto it tightly as his aching limbs were put into motion. He stepped slowly, yet lights still flashed before his eyes. The other man had nothing to fear – it would be a while yet before his father was able to move with any swiftness.

"You have water," Seregeth said quietly.

Thalion looked up in confusion, and shook his head slowly. "Legolas is not dead. You lied to me. You lied to _Thranduil_, you made him believe that his son-

"Water!"

"Take it!"

Thalion threw his water skin, fully aware that the elder man's sore arms would not yet be able to catch it. Indeed, it landed on the table, but he made no attempt to hand it to his father. "How could you?" he hissed instead. "The boy was still alive, and… Valar, death is too good for you."

"How could I?" Seregeth repeated. He limped towards the table and drank from the canteen, gulping the water down for a few seconds in great swallows. Then he looked up, and his lips curled into a sneer. "Is it not obvious? To admit that the child had been rescued would mean defeat for me."

"But you were defeated when those Elves took him and tied you up!" Thalion shouted.

"No, no. I would have been, had I told Thranduil that his beloved son had been rescued and was out of harm's way, but instead I lied, saying that Legolas had been killed," Seregeth replied calmly. "I was believed by everyone, and I expect that the consequences were drastic indeed. No matter. Watching the pain pass over those beautiful faces was tragic, but I loved it. In that moment, I was so powerful, and-

"Power," Thalion spat. "Power, power, power! It is all about your lust for damned power! Because of that, the last time I saw Thranduil, he was dying in his friend's arms. Yet Legolas could have been so near…"

"Exactly," Seregeth said softly. "Power."

The younger man tangled his hands in his own hair, too enraged to think straight, too full of anger to form a sentence. Legolas was alive. Legolas was alive. The words played over and over again, repeating themselves until they tripped over each other, screaming in his mind. When the volume reached shocking intensity, his hand shot out and he struck his father. Weakened, Seregeth came close to falling, but he caught hold of the table and lowered himself into a chair.

"You always did have a temper," he said quietly.

"Speak not to me!"

Thalion drew his sword and started to pace up and down the room, shaking his head and muttering furiously as he went. Then the blade was sheathed and he was walking out of the cottage, seeing only a hazy red mist before his eyes. Seregeth had to die. The small building that had once been his home had to be destroyed. It all had to go – for Legolas, Thranduil, Laerwen, himself.

He had brought a bucket of fuel with him from the town for just this, and he dragged it back to the cottage, not noticing as beads of sweat materialised on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He threw it, dousing the floor, the walls, the furniture, his father, with the shiny liquid, and feeling a strange pleasure as the toxic smell assaulted his senses. Some of the fuel ran down his arms and stained his hands, but he did not bother to wipe it off.

"What is that?" Seregeth spat.

"What do you think?" Thalion snarled back.

The elder man stared in wonder for a moment, stunned that his son would have the courage to do this. But then the realisation of the danger he was in hit, and he emptied the water skin over himself, feeling the fuel drip off his body. But what would this small amount of water do? He watched as Thalion pulled out a box of matches from a shirt pocket, and shook his head almost in amusement.

"You wouldn't."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course. Everyone has their time to shine, and you had yours ten years ago. You had it when you stabbed me," Seregeth spat, jerking his tunic up to reveal a red scar on his chest. "But you are still a frightened little boy, Thalion. You can get rid of me, but you could never get rid of this place. It holds too many memories."

"Say the word, and the cottage goes up in flames," the young man replied in a low voice. "I do not fear you. A while back, I thought I did. But I was wrong. I hate you. I always did."

"Prove it. Prove it to me," Seregeth sneered. "What are you waiting for? Light a damn match."

"Do not tempt me." Thalion took out one of the thin sticks, but only stared at in silence. After a minute had slowly crawled by, he said: "It was not meant to be this way."

"No? Was I supposed to get down on my knees and beg for mercy, all the while crying that I have done wrong and I can redeem myself? Was I supposed to see the error of my ways?" Seregeth asked scornfully. "That is the way of so many stories. People like to read of the reformed bad characters, the _villains_. They like to see them changed. No such luck in this tale, I fear."

"But you could," Thalion murmured. "You could so easily walk away."

"And let you win?" Seregeth snorted. "I think not, son."

"How dare you!"

"Was it something I said?"

"I stopped being your son over twenty years ago. You lost the right to call me 'son' the first time that you ever raised your hand to me – when I had not even seen two summers!" Thalion roared. "Name me so again, and so help me I will…"

"What?"

The younger mortal shook his head, and looked away in fury. "The Elves who took Legolas… Where did they come from? What names did they go by? Where were they taking him? Tell me!"

"We did not exchange pleasantries," Seregeth shrugged. "Though, I did catch two names. One was Elrohir. Another, Elladan. The eldest one I do not know. This knowledge will not help you."

"Oh, it will," Thalion said quietly. "When my work here is over, I will do whatever it takes to find them, and take Legolas back to his father. If I can repair some of the damage that you have done, the world will be a better place."

Seregeth rolled his eyes ever so slightly, but gave no reply to his son's oath. Instead he taunted: "What are you waiting for? If you are so desperate to be rid of me, of the cottage, why do we still stand here talking? I was right all along, is that not so? You are afraid, and weak. _So_ weak. You cannot-

There was a sudden whoosh of flame as Thalion struck the match. It flared intensely for a brief moment, before dying down to a flickering orange. Seregeth stared at it, his mind whirling as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. He was going to die – but not on anyone else's terms. The younger man had defeated him once before, and he was damned if he would allow it to happen again.

"I suppose now is the time to exchange some parting words," Thalion said slowly, stepping towards the door – his escape route. "What do we say, though? Now that the end is near, I have nothing inside of me that I want you to know."

"You will be glad to hear, then, that I do." Seregeth rose awkwardly from where he sat and limped across the room, keeping his blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on the identical ones before him. "You mentioned earlier that I have a lust for power. Truer words have never been spoken."

Thalion stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"After all that I have done over the years to gain control of my life and of others', to win such great power, do you really think that I would so easily relinquish it – to you of all people?" Seregeth asked softly. "No. If this is to be my end, it will be on my terms."

"What…?"

But Thalion had already realised. He drew in a sharp breath of shock and tried to lunge away, but the older man was already moving, battling against his pain to reach his destination. His arm swept outwards, and he hit the match from his son's hand. It flew across the room, spinning and tripping in midair, the orange flame guttering wildly. As it fell, it did so almost in slow motion. Everything except that thin stick of wood seemed to stand still – even time itself.

"I win," Seregeth whispered. "You lose."

Thalion stared in horror as the elder man started to laugh almost manically, but he was quick to snap to his sense. The match hit the floor, burning a piece of carpet that had not been touched by fuel. But the flames spread swiftly, attracted to the flammable liquid as moths are to light. Escape now seemed impossible, but the young mortal threw himself to the door, eyes wild as he scrabbled to get out.

As fuel met flames there was an explosion, and through the deafening roar of fire, the last thing that Thalion heard before he lost consciousness was the crazed laugher of his father, a man who was standing with arms outstretched as flames engulfed him, as he waited for death, the final execution of his much beloved power, to take him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

That evening, Legolas was alone in the room that he was sharing with his father. Thranduil had gone to speak with Elrond nearly an hour back, and shortly after his departure, rain had started to fall in the valley of Imladris. The Prince had stood at the balcony doors, watching mesmerised as drops rolled down the glass like silent tears. He had been content until the arrival of the thunder and lightning, and it was then that fear had taken him.

His mind flashed back to the time when Seregeth had forced him to spend the whole night outside in the storm; and the feelings that those memories invoked in him were nauseating. As thunder smashed he closed his eyes tightly, and tried to concentrate on the pounding of his own heart. As lightning flashed its forked tongues, he dug his nails into the palm of his hand, too afraid to run from the room, yet just as afraid to stay.

Thunder sounded again, and in unison with the deafening clap, the door burst open and hit against the wall. Thranduil came in looking harassed; and as he went swiftly to his son, he said: "Legolas, I am so sorry. I tried to get back to you as quickly as I could, but Elrond was contacting Galadriel to hear news of Gwaihir's progress, and… Legolas? Legolas!"

The child seemed to be frozen on the bed, his eyes wide with fear, his expression distant as he concentrated only on his memories and the storm outside. He was vaguely aware of his father's voice, but it was not until Thranduil caught his shoulders and shook him slightly that he came back to his senses. He looked up, searching desperately for the elder Elf's hand with his own shaking one.

"I wanted to come and find you," he breathed. "I wanted to be with you, Ada."

"Then, why did you not come to Elrond's study?" Thranduil chided gently. "You knew that I would be there."

"Yes, but…" Legolas looked towards the glass doors, and a shiver ran through his small body. "The storm. I felt paralysed by my fear, I could not move. It was as though I was chained, as I was when Seregeth made me…"

"Come with me," Thranduil sighed. He went to the balcony and leaned against the wall, focusing his gaze on a single rain drop that slid miserably down the panes. He did not have to turn to know that his son had not followed. "Legolas. Come here."

"Why?" the boy asked softly, as he took a few tentative steps forward.

"Please."

Legolas stood at his father's side, his body tense, waiting for the next thunder clap or lightning strike. "Ada, I don't… I want to be away from the storm."

"Where would you go? You cannot escape it here," Thranduil replied. "Even if you could I would not allow it. You cannot live your life being afraid of something that is easily cured. It will get in the way of so many things."

"But it is not my fault," Legolas said desperately. "I do not _enjoy _being afraid."

"No. And believe me, I know that it is not your fault. I would never hold your fear against you, and I would never _ever_ blame you for something that Seregeth did," Thranduil answered. "I just want to try and do something – anything – to make this better, to try and repair at least some of the damage that has been done to you."

"What if you can't?" Legolas asked softly.

The Elven-king shrugged, dismissing the question, and nodded towards the black sky outside. "Look out of the window. Watch the storm play out before us, and tell me what you see. Can you do that?"

Legolas touched one of the glass panes, his breath misting it. "There is rain, heavy rain. It is slamming against the walls of the house, and driving through the valley in sheets. It is surprisingly loud."

"Do you remember when it rained in Mirkwood? You would run outside and hide from your mother and I so that we could not find you to tell you to come in," Thranduil recalled. "You loved playing in the rain, and splashing through the puddles."

"There is wind also, though I only hear it," Legolas continued. Thunder rolled, and he looked away quickly so that his fear would be masked. When the noise had died down, he raised his head and said: "The wind…it howls as a wolf does, and is eerie. But at the same time, the song it sings is one of sad beauty."

"You used to like the wind," Thranduil said. "You would laugh as it caught at our hair and clothes, and you enjoyed watching it throw leaves into the air."

The child started to laugh, but as lightning struck outside, he turned away and closed his eyes. "I don't want to do this, Ada. Don't make me."

"If you fall from a horse, what do you do?" the King asked evenly. "You combat your fear of falling by going back to it and confronting it. Is that not so?"

"This is different!" Legolas almost snapped. "Seregeth chained me up like one of his dogs and left me in the storm all night. Thunder was rolling all around and lightning was striking nearby, and…. Ada, it made me ill. Being out in that weather made me physically sick, and now you want me to go through it again!"

Thranduil pulled the boy around to face him, and knelt down so that their eyes were level. "Legolas, don't ever think that I would intentionally put you in danger. Yes, you suffered greatly at Seregeth's hands, but I thought you knew that if you could be safe with anyone, it would be me. Do you doubt my ability to care for you wellbeing? Is my protection not enough even in Imladris?"

"There is no-one in Middle-earth I feel safer with, but do you not understand my fear?" Legolas asked desperately. "Is it so hard to comprehend?"

"I do understand, and that is why I am trying to help you," Thranduil replied. "You spoke of the wind and rain, and we remembered how you used to enjoy them so. All that is left of the storm is thunder and lightning. What is thunder?"

"This is not working," Legolas whispered. "Just leave it be-

"What is thunder?"

"Noise!"

"What is lightning?"

"Light!"

"Can noise and light hurt you?"

"No."

"Then, why should you fear them?"

Legolas drew in a sharp breath of frustration, and looked away from his father. "Because they _can_ hurt. Lightning strikes can kill, they can start fires…"

"You are inside, with strong walls between you and the storm that will not fail to offer protection," Thranduil said gently. "You cannot be touched here. Outside, yes, a storm can be frightful. But inside, it is only noise and light to you. If you remember that, you will feel no fear. You can instead watch the beauty of nature play out before you."

"Storms are not beautiful."

"How do you know?" Thranduil countered. "If you always cover your ears and close your eyes, you can never have witnessed one properly. You should. I think that you would be surprised."

Legolas bit down on his lower lip, and cast an anxious gaze towards the balcony doors. "I will be brave again. After living with Seregeth, surely weather cannot be so awful. But, I do not want to be alone."

"Why would you be?"

"Stay with me."

"Of course."

Thranduil sat down against the wall, pulling his son into his lap so that they were close together. He could feel the tension of the small body against his own; and he smiled slightly, remembering what it felt like to be a child who wanted so desperately to be strong and brave before his father. But he was not the child any more, and he knew that there was nothing for Legolas to prove.

"Alright?" he asked softly.

"Hmm."

"Feel safe?"

"Hmm."

The Elf rested his head back against the wall, listening to the rain beating on the windows. It was the only sound for a while, but just as he was beginning to wonder if the storm had faded, thunder rolled just as heartily as before. Whatever he had expected from Legolas – tears, a small cry – did not come, and he felt a rush of pride at the bravery. Lightning struck a moment later, illuminating the valley of Imladris. The Prince inhaled sharply, and leaned forwards for a better view.

"You were right," he breathed. "That _was_ beautiful."

"Of course it was," Thranduil replied. "And you need not sound so surprised that I spoke correctly, thank you very much. One would think that you believe me to be lacking where intelligence is concerned."

Legolas shrugged, issuing no answer, though a smile curled his lips as the Mirkwood ruler drew a sharp breath of feigned hurt. Strong hands crept around his waist and up his chest, and his mind flashed back to the last person who had touched him so – Taras. Images whirled through his head, images from not so long ago that made him want to suddenly scream out loud. But then a gentle Elven voice broke into the flashback, and the boy was able to relax. This was different. This was his ada.

"If I am anything but clever, do not forget that you are also, Elfling," Thranduil said, tickling the little Prince. "Your children will be slow and dim-witted in matters of the mind, and their children, and even _their_ children will-

_Crash._

Both Elves flinched this time as thunder exploded somewhere above them, the loudest one yet. It rattled the balcony doors, the echoes reverberating all around for a while after it made itself known. When the sound eventually faded altogether, Legolas looked over his shoulder at his father, and gave a small smile. He said simply: "That was loud."

"So it was."

"It frightened even you."

"No, it surprised me."

"Are you afraid of _anything_, Ada?"

"Of course. No-one can say that they are fearless without lying," Thranduil replied. "Some do, but that is because they see fear as a weakness – which is a weakness in itself – and are not strong enough to admit that they are no different than anyone else."

"What do you fear?"

The Elven ruler looked out of the balcony doors, and exhaled silently. "The fall of my father's kingdom. The death of my people. More than anything, losing the ones I love."

"Then, your worst fear was brought to life when I was taken," Legolas murmured. He felt his father nod behind him, and turned around fully so that their eyes met. "Was it very hard for you, Ada? I often wondered what you and Nana were doing, whether you had given up searching for me, or whether you were on the way to rescue me even as I thought. It was so easy for me to imagine Nana. But not you. Were you thinking of another child to take my place? Did you blame me for leaving? Did you cry for me?"

Thranduil was silent as he listened to the rhetorical questions, but he looked up at the last one. "What do you think?"

"I want to think that you did," Legolas replied slowly. "If you can shed tears without shame, then that is a strength also."

"Some would beg to differ, though not I," the King said. "And yes, I did cry for you, ion-nin. Your mother and I both did. How could we do anything else when our only child was taken from our lives?"

The Elfling looked away again, and let out a deep breath. He should not have mentioned Laerwen. He loved her with all of his heart, of course he did, but thinking of her brought back the pain. If only he could shut her out of his mind until he knew whether she was sailing, because it was the _not_ knowing that caused the greatest hurt. His sudden sadness must have been evident, for Thranduil laughed, and spoke with amusement lacing his voice.

"I have not been entirely truthful with you, ion-nin."

"What?"

"You asked me what I fear, and I told you. Only, I neglected to inform you that…" The Elven ruler bit on his lower lip, the action making him greatly resemble his son. "If I tell you this, I want your word that it goes no further than this room."

Legolas looked up, his melancholy expression slowly being replaced by one of anticipation. "Of course. You have it. Ada, what did you not tell me?"

"I do not like spiders."

"You don't _like _them?"

"I…am afraid of them, you could say," Thranduil muttered.

"No, you are not," Legolas replied scornfully. "You fight them all the time in Mirkwood, and you do so without any fear."

"Oh yes, the large ones do not affect me because I know that they must be destroyed for the protection of my people. But it is the small ones that come into the palace…" Thranduil shuddered, at the same time wondering at the fact that he was admitting this to his young son. Laerwen was the only one who knew _this_ secret. "They have long legs and thin bodies, and they move swiftly, and… They are horrible."

Legolas chewed on the inside of his cheek, unsure what to say. Eventually he settled for: "I don't think I have ever seen you blush before now."

"You can feel free to laugh."

"Why would I? I do not find it funny." Though, the boy did have to raise a hand to his lips to hide a smile. "Besides, you did not laugh at my fear of storms, so I will not… Spiders, though. It is slightly amusing to hear that one of Middle-earth's finest warriors is afraid of _spiders_."

"Even the word is awful," Thranduil reflected, ignoring the comment. "Spider. Spi-der. Sp-i-der. You see? It is horrible."

"You're funny," Legolas giggled.

The Mirkwood ruler smiled, glad that he had distracted his son from whatever sadness had touched him. He pulled the Elfling close against his chest, burying his face in the golden hair that blended with his own, and inhaling the childish scent. It gave him comfort, spreading a warmth that could be nothing more than intense love through his body. His thoughts turned to Laerwen, and he sighed softly.

'_You should be here with us, meleth-nin,' _he thought. _'I hope with all of my heart that you will be before too much time has passed us by.'_

Thranduil looked down, drawn by a slight shaking of his son's shoulders. He wondered fleetingly if the Elfling was crying, but a quick glance into the amused eyes told him otherwise. "What," he said, "do you find so humorous now?"

"Not much," Legolas replied.

"It must be something."

The Prince bit on his lower lip, and smiled. He simply said, much to the vague annoyance of his father: "Spiders."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Sorry that this has taken a while longer to get up – I've been a bit busy with college work and filling in applications for new jobs which is just so boring and tedious, plus the whole house is being redecorated so everything is a bit chaotic. But it's up now, and hopefully the next chapter will be up on time. It should be.**

**There's an important note on my bio page that I'd appreciate people checking out. It actually doesn't apply to most people who are reading this story, but it does to some, so if you could just go to my profile page and read it, I'd be very grateful.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning, Legolas rose early again and went straight to the dining hall after dressing, so that he could search for one Elf in particular who he knew would be awake at that time. There were a few servants milling around and laying out breakfast foods, but the commanding officer of Mirkwood's army sat on his own at the table, picking idly at pieces of fruit. He appeared to be in deep reverie, for when his Prince took a seat at his side, he looked up quickly with a sharp breath of surprise.

"Sorry," Legolas said, noting absently that yesterday had started with that word also. "I did not mean to startle you."

"No matter," Alondir smiled. "Why are you not still abed? It is yet early."

"I could say the same to you," the child answered. "I was unable to sleep. It is always hard to do so when you know that something important is going to happen very soon."

"Today is indeed a very important day," the commander murmured. "Gwaihir is due to arrive in the next hour, and he will take your father to the Grey Havens to try and intercept your mother. How do you feel about that, penneth?"

"Nervous."

"That is understandable. There is no shame in fearing what the outcome will be," Alondir said.

"I know. Ada and I were talking about this last night," Legolas replied. "If I am honest, I do not wish to speak of Nana until much later on. Do you understand _that_?"

"You want to wait until you know."

The Prince smiled at the accurate reply. "Yes. Besides, there is something else that I want to discuss with you, which is also a reason behind my early rising. It is a question that I wanted to ask of my father last night and the night before, but I was unable to form the words – I think because I do not want to cause him further pain. May I ask you?"

"Ask away."

"What happened to Seregeth?"

"I am sorry?"

"What happened to Seregeth?" Legolas repeated. "I know that you went with Ada to the cottage, but I do not know how you realised that it was the place to look for me. And, I do not know to what fate my captor was condemned. I so want to, Alondir."

"How much has your father told you?" the commander asked slowly.

Legolas made a movement with his hands, and let out a deep sigh. "Not very much. In fact, hardly anything at all, though in fairness to him I have not asked. I thought that he would be reluctant to speak of it. His memories of the anger, fear and sadness that he must have felt would return, and I did not want that."

"Your consideration in the midst of your desperation for answers is admirable," Alondir said. "But I am unsure how much I can reveal without intruding upon your father's right to tell you what you want to know."

"Not all of it is want," Legolas replied quietly. "Some of it is need."

The commander was silent for a moment as he deliberated, but then he nodded slowly. "Very well. I will tell you what I can, but if I refuse to give you an answer at any time, I ask that you do not hold it against me."

Legolas nodded his agreement. "First of all, how did you know where I was? It may have taken you five weeks, but you did realise. How was it possible, when no-one even knew Seregeth? Did Amarth return to Mirkwood and admit to what he had done?"

"Not exactly," Alondir replied. He wondered how to work his way through this one – clearly the boy did not know Thalion's part in the ordeal. "There was one among us who had an…epiphany, you could say. He had a series of dreams which eventually led him to the knowledge of your whereabouts."

"Who was it?"

"An acquaintance of your father's."

Legolas frowned, but did not press the elder Elf. "When you arrived at Seregeth's cottage, was he still tied?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you that I was being taken to Imladris? Is that why you came here?"

"No, that was just chance," Alondir answered. "We questioned him, demanding to know where you were; and it was a long tale indeed that he spun. All I will say is that he claimed you were…that he had…taken your life."

Legolas looked up sharply, his eyes wide with horror. "No. He told my father that I was dead? Alondir, how could he have done such a thing? Did Ada believe him? Please, say that he didn't."

"We all did," the commander whispered. He exhaled as the child's face whitened. "We all did, penneth, and that is why we came here. Being told that your life was no more affected us all, but of course, your father especially. We feared that he would follow in your mother's footsteps, and only the powers of Lord Elrond would be able to save him."

"I had no idea," Legolas murmured. "I knew that Ada must have been hurting, but I did not know just how much… Did he come close to fading?"

"It was lucky indeed that Glorfindel brought you straight here," Alondir replied, the meaning behind his words evident.

The Prince let out a deep breath and shook his head, struggling to believe how close he had come to losing his father before even finding him again. "There is one last question," he said quietly. "It is perhaps the one that I am most desperate for an answer to."

"What do you want to know?"

"When you left Seregeth, was he alive or dead?"

"Why do you want to know this?" Alondir asked, stalling as his mind whirled.

"I was a prisoner of his for over a month, and I am curious as to whether he was made to pay, or if he escaped without punishment. I want to know if he paid _any_ price for hurting my family and I," Legolas said. "But also, when Glorfindel and the twins took me from the cottage, the last words that Seregeth spoke were ones which have stayed with me. He said…he promised to come after me. He swore to find me one day."

Alondir's heart constricted at the fear lacing the child's words. "Legolas, not much can reassure you against such a threat, but I will make a promise now, one that will be upheld by all of us. Whilst you are under our protection, no harm will come to you from anyone, and especially from Seregeth. He will never find you. And if he does, he will not live to tell the tale."

"Then, he is still alive?" Legolas whispered.

"I will not lie to you," Alondir replied. "When we left his cottage, he still lived."

The Prince looked away, unsure what to think, let alone what to say. Seregeth was still alive… But surely he would not be able to cause any more damage? After all, with the protection of Elrond, Glorfindel, Alondir and Thranduil, Legolas could be nothing but safe. Still, fear would linger on for a while yet. He would wake in the night after being beaten until he bled, and he would often find himself looking into a pair of blue eyes that spoke of cruelty and pain. Of course he would. To be able to move on immediately would be unnatural.

As the Elfling contemplated this, the doors to the dining hall opened and the twins came in, talking in quiet voices. Elladan appeared to be teasing Elrohir. They took seats at the table with their new friend; and Alondir rose fluidly, touching a reassuring hand to Legolas' shoulder. The two Mirkwood Elves shared a look that only they understood, before the commander moved away and left the large room.

"Good morning," Elladan said warmly. "I hope that you slept well last night. The storm did not keep you awake, did it?"

"Not exactly," Legolas replied, focusing his attention on the newcomers. "And yourselves?"

"I was quite content, but the same cannot be said for my brother here. Unfortunately, he has a slight…" Elladan flashed his twin a wicked smile. "…aversion to storms. He dislikes them very much."

"That jest died a long time ago," Elrohir sighed. Upon seeing the Elfling's blank expression, he explained: "Do you remember the cave that we took you to before coming here? Well, we had stayed there during a storm, and I panicked ever so slightly because we were outside."

"We had shelter," Elladan pointed out. "It could have been a lot worse. Glorfindel could have decided that he didn't want to share the cave, and forced us to sleep outside."

Legolas winced, remembering his own trauma. He felt a vague anger at Elladan for speaking so casually, before reminding himself that, in fairness, the other Elf did not know much of his imprisonment with Seregeth. As a distraction, he turned to Elrohir and said: "You should not feel ashamed if you _were_ afraid. Ada told me that last night. I never liked storms either, you see."

"Your father sounds a clever Elf, but I doubt my brother will be seeking his advice," Elladan said, amused.

"Some fear him, but it is without reason," Legolas replied. "You probably caught him on a bad day, whenever it was that you…encountered his wrath. He can be somewhat temperamental."

Elrohir blinked at the Elfling's perceptiveness. "So I have seen. But to spare me future embarrassment, why don't you continue advising me about this fear and shame concept?"

Legolas humoured the twin, though he missed out most parts of his conversation with his father, wishing to keep it only between them. He did admit that the ruler of Mirkwood was afraid of spiders – quite by accident – and when the elder Elves both stifled laughter at the revelation, he begged them to carry it no further, angry with himself for letting the secret – no matter how trivial it was – slip.

"Please, don't tell anyone else," he said quickly. "My father only told me to make me feel better about my fear of the storm. I did not mean to betray his confidence."

"And we will not betray yours," Elladan replied. "However…"

"We could have some fun with it," Elrohir continued. "When this ordeal is well and truly over, and when moods are not so sad, we will show you how to have fun. You did not make a mistake in befriending us. Life is never dull."

Legolas made a soft noise of amusement, though it could well have passed for trepidation. "So I have heard. Lord Glorfindel has told me of your many escapades – and not with a smile on his face."

The twins started to laugh, but the sudden slamming of doors stopped them almost immediately. Commander Alondir ran back into the hall, his green eyes flickering in anticipation as he simply cried: "Gwaihir has arrived!" Legolas sat still for a moment as though frozen, trying to process this. It lasted only a second though, for he was suddenly up and running as quickly as he could after the warrior.

As he dashed along corridors and down steps, his heart pounded furiously against his chest like a drum, beating in time to the rhythm of his feet as they sped like wildfire over marble floors. Gwaihir was there, Gwaihir was there. He could not stop the words from playing over and over like a mantra, although he was swift to remind himself sharply that the Great Eagle's presence did not mean that Laerwen was saved.

"There," Alondir breathed unnecessarily as they reached the courtyard. "There he is."

There was only one place for Legolas to look. Elves were congregated all around, Elves from both Imladris and Mirkwood, watching the happenings. Elrond and Thranduil were standing in the middle of the courtyard, although the focus of all gazes was upon perhaps the mightiest bird to be seen upon the shores of Middle-earth: Gwaihir the Windlord, descendant of the great Thorondor. He stood golden in the sunlight, his long wings flexing as he spoke serenely with the two immortal rulers.

"Go forward," Alondir murmured.

Legolas did, hesitantly. He made his way carefully through the groups of Elves, not hearing the soft voices as they echoed above him. He reached his father's side, and although Thranduil's hand came down to rest on his shoulder, he did not look up to meet the silver eyes that he knew were upon him, for his own were fixed on the golden flecked ones of the Great Eagle.

"Greetings, young Prince," Gwaihir said softly.

Legolas glanced up at Thranduil, but the Elven-king only gave a small smile. "I…um…" He bit on the inside of his cheek, wondering at the strangeness of the situation. "Good morning, Lord Gwaihir. It is nice to meet you…"

The eagle bowed his majestic head as though in amusement as the boy fell silent. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, child. You have suffered greatly. I hope that the speed of my wings can ease your pain."

"Thank you," Legolas replied quietly. He looked at the curved beak and moved closer to his father, feeling only slightly safer as Thranduil's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"He will not hurt you," the King murmured.

"Alas, too often is the sharpness of my beak misleading," Gwaihir sighed.

Elrond smiled slightly at that. "It is, but I fear that we cannot stand here and exchange pleasantries until the sun goes down. It is vital that you reach the Grey Havens before Queen Laerwen does. Do you understand this, my friend?"

The great bird dipped his beak. "I do. I shall fly with all speed."

"I do not doubt that." Elrond turned to Thranduil, and continued: "It should not take you too long to get there. Bring your wife back, mellon-nin. Do not let her board that ship. I lost my Celebrían, and I would not have your family suffer the same pain that mine did."

The Mirkwood ruler held the elder Elf's gaze for a moment in silence, before kneeling so that he and his son were at eye level. "Legolas. I want you to know that I will try as hard as I can to bring her back to you. But I can make no promises. I do not want to give you false hope, for that would be cruel."

"You couldn't," the child replied softly. "Nothing is certain. I know that."

Thranduil pulled Legolas into a brief embrace, and kissed the top of the golden head. "Lord Elrond will look after you in my absence, although I do not hope to be away for too long. If luck is with us, I will be back in the next few days."

"I do not think that you should rely on luck," the Prince murmured. "It rarely comes when it is needed most. Ada, you must go. The longer you stay here, the closer Nana gets to the Grey Havens."

"Come with me, penneth," Elrond said gently, leaning down and lifting Legolas into his arms. As Thranduil rose, he smiled slightly at him. "Your son speaks the truth. Go. Go with the blessings of the Valar, and may they be with you on your path."

The Sinda hesitated, wondering with some bitterness just how much trust he could place in the Valar to guide and help him after all they had put his family through so far. But then he looked into the face of his only child, and the thought was banished from his mind. They had returned Legolas to him. Surely that had to mean something. Surely if they had not been entirely benevolent they would not have-

'_By Eru, stop thinking!' _ Thranduil chided himself silently. _'Just go and find Laerwen_ _before it is too late.'_

As if reading the Elf's thoughts, Gwaihir folded his wings and settled himself down on the ground for easier mounting. A little way away, Legolas watched in fascination – and also with a small bit of envy – as his father jumped fluidly onto the majestic bird's golden back. He wished that he was going also, but the thought was no more than fleeting. The whole purpose of this was to save Laerwen, not for leisure.

The Prince bit on his lower lip, his eyes wide as Gwaihir flexed his wings, waiting patiently as the Elves moved out of the way. "Lord Elrond, will Ada be safe?" he asked softly.

"Of course – providing he does not pull any feathers out."

Legolas looked up sharply, wondering if the Peredhil's serene words were jesting or serious. He opened his mouth to ask, but the question had not even formed in his mind when Gwaihir took to flight, his wings stretched out to their full span. He spiralled upwards in lazy circles for a few seconds, before soaring majestically away, a golden silhouette against the cerulean sky.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**_Two_ Days Later – The Grey Havens**

"What did you see?" Thranduil called to Gwaihir, above the noise of rushing wind. "Your eyesight is better than mine up here, and you saw something which made you hasten."

"Indeed I did," the Great Eagle replied. "All I can say is that when we land, you must go to the harbour with all speed. Your wife is there."

The King felt his heart skip a beat, and his fingers unconsciously curled tightly around the aureate feathers beneath them. Like all Elves he had exceptional eyesight, and never before had it failed him. Though, so high in the sky, and with the afternoon sun right before him, he could only rely on Gwaihir's vision. But Laerwen was there, she was at the harbour. Did that mean she had already boarded the ship?

"No."

"What?"

"No. Not yet."

Thranduil blinked. He had not even realised that he had asked the question aloud. "Forgive me, my friend. I did not mean to be so abrupt with you."

"No matter," Gwaihir replied. "Hold on to me now. I am going to take you down, and I would very much like to return you to Imladris in one piece."

The Elf reflected absently that it would be nice, although his attention was focused elsewhere. The massive blue expanse far below was revealing itself to be a glittering ocean, its white waves foaming towards the shore like running horses. Golden sand stretched out for what seemed like miles – a beautiful tableau, but one that Thranduil had to harden his heart against, conscious of the sea longing that lay dormant in all his kind.

As the Great Eagle descended lower and lower in circles, the Elven ruler started to see clearly once more. The town of Mithlond lay below him; he could see the streets and houses, the Falathrim going about their daily business. Where was the harbour, though? Behind him. He turned his head, unconsciously letting go of his hold on Gwaihir, so eager was he to catch a glimpse of the Mirkwood Elves – moreover, his wife.

"Wait until we are lower before doing that," the Windlord cautioned. "I would not let you fall, but even so. Let us not take risks."

Thranduil resumed his hold with some reluctance, forcing his gaze away from the harbour. He could wait. He _would _wait. But Valar, it was so difficult, trying to control the burning desire to see what was happening. Surely it would not be long, though. They were getting closer and closer to the ground; and he could see Elves below looking and pointing upwards in awe at the sudden apparition.

"Hold on," Gwaihir reminded his passenger. "The landing will be gentle, but still…"

Barely hearing the words, Thranduil nodded. They were going down, down, down, skimming over the roofs of Elven houses, attracting cries of wonder from adults and children alike, sweeping just above a colourful market taking place in one of the streets; and then all of a sudden it was over. The Great Eagle had landed in a plaza next to a marble fountain of ships and sea birds, and was nodding his feathered head at those who had gathered.

Thranduil paused for a moment to calm his growing fears, before swinging himself down to the floor. He swayed slightly, unused to firm ground, although Gwaihir put out a wing to steady him. "Thank you, my friend," he said quickly, not just meaning the support.

"Thank me when it is over," the Windlord urged. "Go now."

As though the crowd knew what the foreign Elf was going to do, they moved apart as one, leaving the path that led to the harbour free. He nodded briefly at them, before turning on his heel and running from the plaza. He had never been to Mithlond before, but he knew, perhaps intuitively, where it was that he had to go, where his wife's ship was waiting.

Every step that he took made his heart pound just that little faster, and he raised a hand to the pendant around his neck, looking for some comfort. None came. The salty air drifting in from the sea was strong, and Thranduil tried not to breathe it in – the scent which was so different to his forest made his head hurt. But at least the increasingly potent smell meant that he was getting closer.

With no reason for doing it other than instinct, the Elf left the main path he was following and took a side street to the left. Only a few steps in and somehow it seemed far removed from anything else he had encountered so far – it was quieter, filled with a grief that he knew had come from Elves seeking Valinor. It was long, thin, but at the far end of it he could see glittering water…a pier…white masts fluttering in the breeze…

They were moving. The masts were moving! Thranduil breathed an incoherent word of despair, increasing his already swift pace. He ran as though his life depended on it – which was not far from the truth – but the narrow street did not seem to be getting any shorter. He did not seem to be getting anywhere. In his suddenly terrified mind, he was frozen, unable to save the woman that he loved.

"Laerwen, please," he whispered. "Do not go. Don't…"

And then he was through, he was out of the side street and into the open air, jumping almost recklessly down the stone steps of the harbour, his heart exploding painfully as the white ship drifted peacefully away. A robed figure stood at the end of the pier, and he watched silently as the desperate Elf raced towards him. His ancient eyes flicked out briefly to the departing vessel, but they came back almost immediately to rest on the newcomer.

"Stop the ship," Thranduil breathed. "Stop it, bring it back."

"I cannot," Círdan said slowly.

"Of course you can! You are the Lord of the Havens. If you can send it away, you can bring it back," the Mirkwood ruler snapped, forgetting in his fear and anger to offer any respect to the ancient Elf before him. "My wife is on there. She should not be, I-

"I will forgive you your presumptuousness, for your grief is inherent," Círdan interjected in a soft voice. "The loss of a loved one can affect us, but you must accept that-

"By the black blood of Sauron, I must accept nothing!" Thranduil spat. "Bring the ship back, or so help me I will do it myself."

"It is not my right to deny Valinor to those who seek it. Nor does that right belong to you," the Shipwright admonished. "To halt their journey now would be an act of cruelty."

"But they are still in sight. They can continue to the Undying Lands, all I need is to tell my wife that our son lives, that she is sailing for nothing," the blond Elf said almost desperately. "I need _her_, and I _will _stop the ship if you do not. I will do what it takes. Valar, I will even swim out there and climb on board."

Círdan stood a little straighter, and looked at the Sinda with eyes that were surprisingly gentle in the stern visage. "You would not reach the ship, even if you could swim as a fish. It has gone."

"But can you not… I do not know…" Thranduil shook his head as though struggling to believe that this was happening. "Send a signal of sorts. Have a gull take a message. Please, anything. My wife is out there, and if I lose her, it means that my young son will grow up without his mother. Do not subject him to that fate."

"It has gone," Círdan repeated softly.

His eyes stinging with tears, Thranduil sank to his knees before the elder Elf, bowing his head so that a curtain of hair fell down in front of his face. "My Lord, please. What more can I say? What can I do? I do not ask much – only a chance to rebuild my family, to bring the ones whom I love into something that resembles an old and lost life, even if it is but a replica of what was."

"You are not the first to try and stop one of my ships, nor will you be the last," Círdan said. He reached down and raised Thranduil's chin so that their eyes met, and he felt an ache in his soul at the grief in those azure pools. "Would that I could bring her back, and ease your pain. But alas, I can only give you advice."

"My Lord?"

"Love your wife forever, young one. Do not stop loving her," the ancient Elf said quietly. "But love your son too. He will need you, and you him. At times you will both find it a challenge to get through the days – unbearable even – but life can continue. Maybe you will find another lady who-

"There could be no other," Thranduil replied hollowly.

Círdan gave a benign smile, and gently pulled the Sinda up. "Rise. You must return to your home. Tell your son what words I have spoken, but tell yourself too. Do not forget them."

As the Lord of the Havens turned and walked away, his robes flapping in the sea breeze, Thranduil drew Laerwen's pendant over his head and carried it to the edge of the pier. He stood there with only the ocean stretching out before him, his eyes fixed on the ship that he could see moving towards the horizon. His wife was on there. So near, and yet so far away.

As the realisation dawned of just how close he had been, angry tears blurred the Elf's vision, and he started to scream silently at himself. He could have done things differently – said his goodbyes in Rivendell with more haste, pushed himself faster through Mithlond. But it was over now. He had lost the woman he loved, and Legolas… Legolas has lost his mother.

But had Círdan not said that life can go on? Thranduil shook his head slowly. For himself, maybe it could. He had lost his own mother and elder brother as a child, and his father not long after. His son had even been taken for a time. He knew how to work through the painful emotions that came with such tragedy. Did Legolas, though? The boy had already suffered greatly in his short life, and had certainly known grief. But he had not experienced this.

'_He is strong. Do not underestimate his strength,' _the immortal thought. _'He will shed many tears when I return alone, but he has already resigned himself to the fact that the worst could happen. He accepted her departure as a possibility, so maybe…maybe there is hope for the future.'_

A gull cried mournfully overhead, and Thranduil followed its wheeling path for a moment with his eyes. To have wings would be a blessing. They could take you so far away from the grief and pain that comes for free with life, they could ease so much suffering. But such escape was only granted to the Elven race for a high price – as Mirkwood's ruler knew.

He exhaled, and turned his attention back onto the pendant still held in his hand. He outstretched his arm over the pier, and uncurled his fingers to reveal dazzling crystals on a fine silver chain. Cerulean water sparkled below, silently calling to him, telling him to drop the necklace into the depths, where it would be forever hidden from his sight, where he would not be able to look at it and see his wife's face. But he could not let it go. His body would not obey his mind's wishes.

'_Drop it,' _Thranduil told himself. _'Drop it now.'_

It felt like the right thing to do, it really did. And he wanted to release the pendant and bury it beneath the water, maybe as a hidden mark to where he had finally lost his wife. But he physically could not. In frustration he threw his gaze down to the necklace to glare at it, but what he saw reflected in those crystal prisms made him start. Laerwen.

He wanted to turn around, to prove to himself that she was not real, that it was nothing but an image conceived by his grief stricken mind. But images do not move. This one was. Its reflection was walking sedately towards the edge of the pier, to the lone Elf, and it was only getting bigger and bigger. Thranduil could take it no more. He turned sharply. His eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat.

"I hope that you were not thinking of throwing that beautiful necklace into the sea."

The Elven ruler took a breath to regain his composure, before drawing himself up to his full height, and nodding slowly. "I fear so, my Lady. Why do you ask?"

"Because, my Lord, I recall asking you to give it to our son. It is not much good to him at the bottom of the ocean, is it?"

Thranduil winced, despite himself. That promise had suddenly slipped his mind. "I do remember that, yes. But I hope you will find it in yourself to forgive me, struck by grief as I was at my lady's apparent departure."

Silence fell on the pier as silver eyes met violet, and the gaze was held for what felt a lifetime to both King and Queen. But then as one they dropped all pretences and ran to meet, all but falling into each other's arms as they laughed and cried in disbelief, shock, joy. At the far end of the harbour Círdan was watching the reconcilement with a benevolent smile upon his ancient face.

"He said that you were gone," Thranduil breathed, brushing loose strands of hair behind his wife's ear. "He made me believe that you were on the ship, that you were already…"

"I know, my love, I know," Laerwen answered gently. "And I hope that _you_ can forgive _me_ now for making you suffer so. I wanted our reunion to be sweet."

"It is, but why did you not get on the ship?" the blond Elf pressed. "Did you know the truth?"

"Not until I arrived here. Círdan espied Gwaihir, and a gull brought a message down to tell us everything, to tell me that Legolas is alive. I had been waiting for a sign, praying for one; and it came none too soon," Laerwen explained breathlessly. "Is it true? Is our child really safe?"

"He has lost weight and is a little subdued, but he is well." Thranduil took his wife's hands and held them tightly, his eyes shining with joy as he tried to tell her everything. "When you hear what Legolas has endured, you will be so proud of him. You have to know and understand that he did suffer greatly, but he survived it all. Laer, he is the bravest Elf I know, and I am so proud to be able to call him my son. Seeing you will heal any wounds that he has left, I know it. He has been praying for your return, and-

"Thranduil, hush," Laerwen laughed. "You have a tendency to speak too swiftly when you are excited, and no-one else can get a word in edgeways."

"I am sorry, I just…" The King looked out at the ship still visible on the horizon, and shook his head slowly. "I have my family back. I know that in only a few days, my wife _and _my child will be with me, and that is such an overwhelming thought, because not so long ago I did not think it possible, but now it is. And you are right, I am talking too much, I-

Laerwen moved forwards and silenced the blond Elf with her lips. Not since the day of their marriage at the start of that Age had they shared a kiss filled with such passion, such love; and the intensity of the exchange drew a gasp from the Queen. She found her slender frame being held tightly in the protective arms of her husband; and to her surprise, tears filled her eyes and slipped out from under her lashes.

As he felt the wet drops against his cheeks, Mirkwood's ruler broke off the kiss and gazed at his wife in concern. "Laer, what is it?" he asked softly. "Why do you weep?"

"Because I am so happy," Laerwen whispered. "Because our little boy is alive. Because I love you…"

There was no disputing that they were justifiable reasons. Thranduil understood them all, though he spoke no words to comfort the Elven lady. Instead he relinquished his hold on the crystal pendant, and slipped it back over her head. The sight of it against her white skin made him smile. That was where the necklace belonged. He mentally kicked himself for even considering that it should be thrown into the sea.

"Meleth-nin," Laerwen said softly. "It is time to go. Let us return to our son."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Away from the Grey Havens, Legolas was playing a game of hide and seek with the twins. They were out of the valley and instead in the woods surrounding Imladris, although Lord Elrond had only allowed this on the condition that they were accompanied by Glorfindel _and_ Alondir. Elladan and Elrohir had exchanged looks of concealed annoyance at this, but they had held back any protests for the Elfling's sake. It wouldn't have been fair to spoil his fun.

Although, truth be told, Legolas _wasn't _having fun. When he was the seeker, either the commander or the seneschal would trail a few feet behind, watching him carefully to ensure he did not stray out of sight. When it was his turn to hide, he would be stopped, and before he was permitted to go any further, he would have to tell the elder Elves where he would be. Elladan and Elrohir were tolerant, but he could sense that they were growing impatient. Now all he wanted was to go back to the Last Homely House. He was tired of being treated and made to feel like a mere babe.

"Let us have one more game," Elrohir said, noting the miserable expression on the child's face. "It is Elladan's turn to seek; and besides, I have found a new hiding place to try out."

"Very well." Legolas left the clearing they stood in; and as soon as he was through the trees, Glorfindel appeared before him. His eyes narrowed coldly. "Hello. _Again_."

The seneschal hid a smile at the poorly concealed bitterness in his charge's voice. "Hello, little one. What are you doing now? Hiding or seeking?"

"Hiding."

"Have you found somewhere yet?"

Legolas had known that was coming. "Yes," he replied. "There are a cluster of cedars along this path, and I will climb one of them. Please don't come to check on me this time. The last time you did, Elrohir followed you and found me."

"I am sorry," Glorfindel said contritely. "Go on your way, then."

With a soft exhale of annoyance, Legolas stepped around the Elf-lord and continued his journey. He understood the elder Elves' desire to protect and shield him from potential danger, but there was a limit to how much guard could be put upon him, and it had been overstepped hours ago. He was safe here, of that he was sure. It was not a large place, and the trees spoke to him constantly.

"Legolas!"

The Elfling stopped, but did not bother to turn around. "I have to go. Elladan is seeking, and he counts swiftly."

"Where will you be hiding?" Alondir asked.

"Down this way."

"Where?"

"Ask Glorfindel," Legolas suddenly snapped. "I told him only a moment ago."

"I am asking _you_, and until I receive an answer I am afraid that you must stay with me," Alondir said quietly. "I do not like to hinder you so, and restrict your play. But it is imperative that I know where you are at all times. It was because your whereabouts was not known that you were taken before."

Legolas whirled to face the commander, his eyes flashing angrily. "That was different! I was in Mirkwood then – lost, afraid and alone. Now I am in Imladris with four grown Elves in the area. How could I be anything but safe?"

"I am sorry that you do not understand this protection," Alondir said, a sudden bite in his voice. "I can assure you that were your father here, he would enforce the same precautions. You may wish to be taken prisoner again, but we would rather you stayed here with us."

"How can you think that I want to…?" The child shook his head, his face paled in shock. "You don't know anything. If you did, you would know that I _do_ understand, I just resent the overprotectiveness. It stifles me. It humiliates me. Is it too much for you to put a small amount of trust in me, and believe that I will not behave foolishly or wander away?"

"We do not need to have this discussion here," Alondir replied in a low voice. "Tell me where you will be hiding, and I will let you go. Remain silent, and I will have no choice but to take you back and have Lord Elrond try to talk some sense into you."

"You do not want that. My father's lectures are sore to the ears."

Legolas spun, and his face fell as Elladan came through the trees. "You are here already!"

"Yes. I have to say, this is not one of your best hiding places," the elder Elf noted.

"It is not a…" The Prince whipped his eyes back to Alondir, and gave him a glare worthy of Thranduil's best. "I was _planning _to hide in the cedar trees. Now that you know, may I go there? Or, do you have any more pressing questions?"

"What happened?" Elladan asked quietly, watching as the younger Elf ran away from them.

Mirkwood's commander shook his head, angry with himself for distressing his charge so. "It was my fault. At least, that is how Legolas sees it. I did not mean to be so strict with him, I just… He is under my protection. I cannot, I _will_ not fail in my duty as his guardian."

"You do not have to. Why not climb one of the trees?" Elladan offered. "You could watch him from up there, and you are a Wood-elf – you can easily move through the branches. More than likely, Legolas does understand why you want to protect him. It is the _over_protectiveness that bothers him, I deem – the constant trailing and questions from not just one Elf, but two. It would frustrate anyone."

"He said as much. And yes, it would be easy to climb a tree and watch him from there, but it would not feel like enough," Alondir sighed. "Glorfindel could do it, but not I. I was there when Legolas went missing the first time, I was a witness to the pain and grief that… No. I feel safer this way."

Elladan nodded, nothing that the warrior kept on glancing in the direction of the cedars. "Come. Let us find the Elfling, and go back for some food."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As Legolas sat down against one of the large trees, he let out a deep exhale of breath. "I did not mean to snap at Alondir," he said quietly. "I am being selfish, I know."

"Why do you say that, child?"

"Because he is only trying to look after me, because he knows what happened the last time I was alone," Legolas replied, turning slightly to face the cedar that had spoken. "And I know too, more than anyone. What I fail to understand is why he and Glorfindel feel the need to guard me so when I am in such a safe place."

"Nothing is ever certain in our lives," the cedar said gently. "One day I could be standing tall and proud, the next I could be cut down by Orcs who care nothing for the woods, but I would not know it was coming. You only assume that you are safe here because we are near to Imladris. Is that not so?"

"Maybe," Legolas admitted. "I cannot image anything awful happening here. I cannot see Lord Elrond's people suffering as my father's do, because this is a place of such beauty and happiness. I _do _feel safe here. I feel as though I could walk here even when night has fallen, and I would still be safe."

"Do you not fear capture?" the tree asked. "Even after living through such terrible pain and sadness, do you not fear being caught and imprisoned again?"

Legolas was silent for a moment as he thought, but then he nodded slowly. "Of course I do. Seregeth is still alive, and even though I am protected, he could still come after me. But why should I dwell on it? I cannot spend every minute of every day looking over my shoulder."

"You are wise beyond your years."

"I grew up a lot during my captivity. I…" The Prince's head snapped up as twigs broke a little way down the path. Bushes rustled loudly, and a flock of birds took to the air, screaming their indignation at being disturbed. "What was that?"

"Go back to your friends," the cedar advised. "I do not think that you want to be here."

"You know what it is," Legolas whispered, getting to his feet and backing away. "The other trees are telling you. It's him, isn't it? He has come back. He has come back to find me and take me away."

"Find your friends," the tree urged, its branches quivering. "You will be safe with them."

The child spun around, and ran straight into Alondir. He cried out and tried instinctively to run, but the commander reached down and caught his wrists, holding him still. He panicked and kicked out, his fear blinding him to the fact that he was with someone he knew and trusted, a friend. Only when Glorfindel and the twins arrived on the scene a few seconds later did Legolas realise that he was in no danger. He stopped fighting, and grabbed Alondir's hands with his own shaking ones.

"He is back!"

"Calm yourself," the warrior said firmly. "Take a deep breath, and-

"Seregeth has returned!" Legolas cried. "I heard noises on the path, and the trees told me to find you so that I would be safe, and… He will try and take me back, won't he? I don't want to go, I cannot. Don't let him."

"What promise did I make a few days back? I said that no harm would come to you whilst you are under my protection. I have never broken a promise, and I do not intend to start now," Alondir said. "I want you to stay with the twins now. Glorfindel and I will go to investigate."

The two Elven warriors set off down the path, loosening their knives and pulling out arrows from their quivers. They could easily take on one man, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry. As they walked, the commander's eyes flashed angrily at the distress that had been caused to his young Prince. Hurt children always affected him; and he almost wanted Seregeth to have returned so that he could vent his rage on the mortal.

"Did you hear that?" Glorfindel suddenly hissed.

The rustling of undergrowth came from their left, and Alondir nodded once. "Through there," he murmured. "Come."

They readied their weapons; and after a moment of silence to assess their positions, they stepped as one through the trees. Glorfindel sheathed his knife and whipped his bow off his shoulder, the action taking only a second. He strung an arrow, and pointed it at the figure lying prone on the ground. Alondir was slower, lowering his blade until it hung limply at his side. He did not even make a move to string an arrow, his gaze fixed where Glorfindel's weapons were directed.

"We need not have fear," he murmured. "That is Thalion."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas sat in silence in the twins' room, listening with only half an ear to what they were speaking of. His mind was on other things. Why had Glorfindel come out of the trees and ordered them to return to the Last Homely House? Why had the healers been asked to prepare medicines? None of it made sense, and he was so desperate to know what had happened in the woods.

Initially, he _had_ feared that it was Seregeth who the trees had been warning him of, but now he doubted that. The expression on Glorfindel's face had been one of great relief. Surely he would not have been relieved if he and Alondir had come across someone so cruel? Legolas shrugged his shoulders unconsciously, and directed his attention back to the twins.

"Have they returned yet?"

Elladan looked as if he was about to shake his head, but then he hesitated, and nodded instead. "Yes. We saw them crossing the courtyard maybe twenty minutes back. We thought it would be best if we did not attract your attention to it."

"Were they…" Legolas bit on his lower lip, struggling to phrase the question. "Was there anyone else…?"

"Yes," Elrohir said, as the Elfling fell silent. "They were carrying someone."

"Seregeth?"

"I think not," Elladan replied.

"So, it was a man?"

"Yes. But there are often men here in Imladris for various reasons. The Dúnedain Rangers are friends of ours, so when they pass by they will come and stay for a few days," Elrohir explained. "Or if a human is injured, he will be brought here. It could have been anyone in the woods."

"I know, but-

The door opened, cutting the Prince off, and Lord Elrond came into the room. "Forgive me if I am disturbing you," he said, "but I would speak with Legolas. Elladan, Elrohir. If you could leave us for a few minutes."

"Of course."

As his sons left, the Half-elf sat down at a desk strewn with books and papers, and looked towards the Elfling. "I bring news for you, penneth. The man who was in the woods has been taken to the healing rooms, where he is being treated for minor burns and dehydration. Commander Alondir has identified him."

"Who?"

"His name is Thalion," Elrond replied, noting how the child visibly relaxed. "I believe you met him briefly in Mirkwood."

"I did. But I want nothing to do with him," Legolas said quickly. "He was with Amarth. That makes him… No. I will not see him, if that is why you have come to tell me this."

"It is not." The Peredhil paused, and looked carefully at his charge. "I am unsure that your father has told you all there is to know. You have only heard parts of the story from him and Alondir, yes?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I wish that he was here now so that he could tell you the rest himself, but since he is yet away, that task must fall to me," Elrond said. "This will come as a shock to you, I do not doubt. Thalion is Seregeth's son."

"No," Legolas countered quietly. "He cannot be."

"He is, penneth. He is. But he is also very different to the man who held you prisoner," the Elf-lord continued gently. "In fact, from what Alondir has told me Thalion was once in a similar predicament to yours. Even though they are father and son, Seregeth treated him cruelly."

"So, why did he send me to live at the cottage?" Legolas whispered. "If he knew that… If he had experienced it himself, why did…?"

Elrond shook his head as helpless silence fell. "He had nothing to do with it, it was all Seregeth and Amarth. Thalion did not know what really happened until over a month had passed. You see, he stayed in Mirkwood to help in the search. I have been told that he and your father were not the best of friends for a while."

"That does not surprise me," the Elfling said with a faint smile.

"Quite. Now, I believe that when you asked Alondir how they found you, he said that one among them had been having dreams which eventually led him to Seregeth," Elrond continued. "Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"It was Thalion. He dreamt often of his past, remembering the awful times of his childhood that had been spent with his father," Rivendell's Lord explained. "I know not why the dreams were sent to him. Perhaps they were signs from the Valar. I know that your father stopped trusting in them, but maybe they were sending signs all along and Thalion could not read them correctly. Or it could have been that he feared you would be treated cruelly as he had once been, and that fear conceived the visions. Whichever it was, he eventually realised the one place where Amarth could have taken you."

"To Seregeth," Legolas murmured.

"Precisely."

"Then, it is because of Thalion that I am safe and reunited with my father," the child said slowly. "It is all down to him. Lord Elrond, if I had known, I would not have… But I still cannot face him."

"Why? Because he is Seregeth's son?"

"Because he is a human."

Elrond was silent for a moment, but then he nodded slowly. "I see. But you cannot say that every time a mortal enters your life. What will you do when you are older and your father wants you to go to Laketown? What will you do if you must fight alongside men? Will you refuse?"

"Ada will understand," Legolas replied quickly.

"But he will not always be there. Sometimes there will be others who are not so compassionate," Elrond said. "They may become frustrated, or even angry with you. Is that what you want?"

"No, but…how can I pretend that men are not cruel? I have seen what they are, I know what they do," Legolas said, desperation creeping into his voice. "Will I have to pretend for all of my life?"

"I have not mentioned pretence," the Elf-lord answered. "I understand your prejudice against the human race, because your first experience with them was one that caused great heartache and pain. But _you_ need to understand that not all mortals are evil, just because one is."

"It is similar with Elves?" Legolas questioned reluctantly. "Fëanor committed wrong deeds in his life, as did his sons. Eöl was evil, and Maeglin. But there are many who are good and kind."

"Precisely." Elrond paused, and took the child's small hands in his own. "I want you to come with me and see Thalion. With his help, I hope to restore your faith in the race of men. If you want to wait until your father is here so that he can be with you that is fine. But I am willing to accompany you, as are Glorfindel and Alondir. It is your choice."

"Will you help me?" Legolas asked shyly. "I want something to show Ada when he returns. I want him to be proud of me."

"He already is," Elrond said, his voice gentle. He noted that his charge did not mention Laerwen. "But yes, I will help you as much as I am able to. Do you want to visit him now? When I left the healing rooms, he was sleeping peacefully."

The Prince bit on his lower lip, and nodded once. "I will see him."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alondir raised his eyes to the door as it opened, expecting to see only Lord Elrond. That Legolas had also come to the healing wing was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one. He had thought that the boy would want to wait until Thranduil returned from the Grey Havens; and the fact that he was there so soon after being approached conceived a small bubble of pride in the commander's heart.

"I am glad that you are doing this," he said softly. "You are brave."

Legolas went forwards, and stopped a few feet away from the bed. Unwilling to look at the man lying in it but unsure what else to do, he lowered his eyes to the floor, and stared hard at his own feet. A hand came down to rest reassuringly on his shoulder, and he wished for a fleeting moment that he had waited for his father. He trusted Elrond and Alondir, but only felt truly safe with Thranduil.

"What… I mean, how did…" The Prince trailed off, and turned his head to look at the elder Elves. "Why is Thalion here? How was he hurt?"

"We will not know more until he is awake and in a position to answer a few of our questions," Elrond replied. "I cannot imagine where the burns came from, but his dehydration and exhaustion need no explaining. He has travelled a long way in a short time with little rest and water, but it will all be remedied here."

"Was he in much pain?" Legolas asked quietly.

"Some of his burns were infected, but luckily the contaminations had not spread far, and I was able to bring them under control. More than likely he was in pain, yes," Elrond answered, watching the child's face for changing expressions. A mask had been pulled on, though, and he saw few reactions. "Burns are painful, no matter how small they are. He has received medicine."

"If you look, you will see a bandage wrapped around Thalion's abdominal area," Alondir added softly. "Perhaps Lord Elrond will allow you to help with changing it. Would you like that? You could learn a few things about treating injuries, and teach the healers at home."

Legolas gave an imperceptible nod and took another step forward, his gaze still trained firmly on the floor. He felt the commander's hand fall away from his shoulder. With that small movement he felt suddenly alone, isolated from the other Elves in the room. He concentrated hard on finding the internal strength to raise his eyes to look upon Thalion; and as his willpower raged, everything seemed to stop. Movement, noise, time.

'_Now, do it now,' _the young Prince thought. _'Look at him. _Look _at him. It will not hurt me any more than looking into Alondir's face would. If I can do that, I can look into Thalion's.'_

Obeying his mind, Legolas glanced up at the warrior, the brief contact clarifying what he had so firmly told himself. Nothing happened. He was safe. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze towards the bed, and watched silently as Thalion slept. The man's face was pale, his lashes dark against the white skin they rested on. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breathing shallow; and the child noted the bandage that Alondir had mentioned visible under a loose tunic.

"I think that he should have some more food upon waking," he murmured.

Elrond looked at Mirkwood's commander, and smiled. "Why do you say that, penneth?"

"He is too thin. The clothes that he wears are ill fitting, and I can see his bones jutting out," Legolas replied quietly. "You will ensure that he eats?"

"Of course."

The man on the bed shifted in sleep, his head turning slightly on the pillow. This new position showed Legolas the whole of the white visage, and the sight made him swallow nervously. Thalion looked like Seregeth. The elder mortal's face was more sharply defined and definitely crueller, but there was no denying it. Thalion really was his father's son.

'_Only in looks,' _the Prince reminded himself silently, '_and that means nothing. Although, I wonder if he has Seregeth's eyes. I hope not.'_

"Are you well?" Alondir asked softly.

"I didn't think that I would be, but now that I am here I feel safe," Legolas replied. "It is not Thalion's fault that he is either a human or the son of my captor; and I should not have been so swift to judge him."

Elrond smiled, and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I am indeed glad to hear you say that. Do you think you would like to come back and see him when he is awake?"

"Yes, but I would rather wait here," Legolas answered. "I want to _be_ here when he wakes. I don't know why. I think because…because I want to tell him that it wasn't his fault, and that I do not hold him to blame. Do you mind, my Lord?"

"Not at all," the Peredhil said. "You may be in for a long wait, so I will have food sent up for you. Unfortunately I have some work which demands my attention, but Alondir, I believe, is happy to sit with you for the time being. He will-

There was a knock on the door; and as Elrond nodded his head, a healer standing by the wall opened it to admit Elladan and Elrohir. They entered, both glancing briefly at Thalion before turning their attentions to their father. As they spoke, Legolas barely listened. He sat down in an empty chair at the bedside, watching the man's face carefully for any signs of change.

"Adar, Glorfindel was on the way to see you," Elladan began. "We have brought his message, though, to save him traipsing all the way over here."

"I think it was rather because you wanted to look upon Thalion," Elrond said knowingly, a slight frown marring his features. "Is that not so?"

Elrohir glanced at his twin, and shrugged. "Maybe. Adar, Glorfindel has had some soldiers out scouting the woods for any companions that the mortal may have travelled with. They found none, although there was _something_."

"Well?"

"They found his horse which they naturally brought here, but he also had a small dog with him," Elladan replied, hiding a smile. "Leaving it out there would be cruel, so it has come back with the soldiers also."

As if on cue, a loud bark sounded from somewhere outside. Elrond massaged his temples wearily. "Wonderful," he sighed.

"May I see it?"

"Excuse me?"

"May I see the dog?" Legolas clarified. "I thought that I recognised its bark."

"It is not coming into my healing rooms," Elrond said firmly.

Elrohir hastily turned a laugh into a cough, and looked away from his father's sharp eyes. "We can take you to the stables if you would like to see the dog. It will not take long, and I expect that Thalion will still be asleep by the time we return."

Legolas glanced sideways at Alondir. "Will you stay here with him?"

"Of course." The commander fell silent as the three younger Elves left, though when the door was again shut he turned to Elrond. "Need I say that I am surprised? My Prince is stronger and braver than anyone deemed him, and we have come to realise that more and more since finding him. Despite that, I did not expect him to react so upon seeing Thalion."

"I knew he could do it. I only needed to persuade him to come with me, and then all would be well," the Peredhil replied. "Or at least better. This is only the first step of many, though it is by no means a small one. There will be other men who he cannot trust. Maybe he will have flashbacks to his time with Seregeth. He might struggle to bond with any mortals who enter his life even years from now. But it is all part of a healing process."

"He will do it," Alondir said firmly. "I know he will."

"Of course. As you said before, he is courageous indeed." Elrond smiled briefly as he moved towards the door. "Food will be sent up for yourself and Legolas in a short while. The healers are standing by to alert me if there are any drastic changes in Thalion, but I am not expecting any."

The warrior nodded, and took a seat at the side of the bed. He watched the sleeping mortal, following the slow rise and fall of the bandaged chest with his gaze. He liked Seregeth's son, had come to respect him over the last month of searching for Legolas; and he could not help but feel some amount of gladness that the man had followed the instructions on how to reach Imladris. It was good to see him again, even in such a state.

As Thalion's hand slipped on the bed sheets, Alondir raised his eyes to look upon the pale face. There was a story behind the lines of exhaustion, the blisters conceived by intense heat. But what, he did not know. It had to be Seregeth. Something had happened between the two men; and the Elf clenched his fists to fight away the need which ached to know everything. He suspected that the father had finally been beaten by the son.

'_Only Thalion knows,' _he reminded himself. _'Just wait.'_

As the thought entered and left his mind, the door opened. Legolas came into the room, carrying a wrapped up bundle in his arms. He glanced ever so briefly at the commander and flashed him a quick smile, though he spoke no words, and was swift to break eye contact. He sat on the floor next to the bed, and immediately pulled his knees up to his chest, covering them with his arms.

Alondir hesitated, then leaned forwards to whisper in the boy's ear: "I thought I heard Lord Elrond say that he did not want the dog in his healing rooms."

"You did," Legolas confirmed. "Why?"

"I think you know the answer to that," the elder Elf replied. "Would you like to show me what is in that cloak?"

"I don't think so."

Alondir frowned. Really he should take the puppy outside, as he was quite sure Elrond would have wanted him to. But the look of increasing joy on his Prince's face was too much. It stilled him before he had even moved, and he glanced quickly around the room to make sure that there were no over hygienic healers with them. They had left. It looked as if the dog was staying.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Legolas got to his feet and pulled the cover off the hidden animal. "Alondir, look! It is Mellon!"

"Mellon?" the commander repeated with a smile. "Whose is he? Surely he cannot belong to you."

"He does, but Thalion must have been taking care of him since you went to the cottage," the Elfling replied. He paused, and bit on his lower lip as he continued softly: "It was actually Seregeth who gave him to me. My behaviour had pleased him, so he gave me Mellon as a reward. Although, he did try to take him back. He hurt him sometimes too."

Alondir looked at the happily wagging tail, and shook his head slightly. "You chose a good name for him, penneth, for he is friendly indeed. I cannot help but wonder what your father will have to say about this, though. You look optimistic. Do you think that you will be allowed to keep Mellon?"

"I hope so," Legolas answered. "He truly was a friend to me."

"Then, I am sure that will be taken into consideration. I…" Alondir trailed off, and flicked his gaze sharply towards Thalion. The man lay still, but the Elf would swear that he had caught movement. "Did you see that?"

"What?"

"I am sure that his head moved." The commander nodded as the mortal's fingers flexed and curled around the bed covers. "There. He is waking."

Legolas placed Mellon onto the floor, and was standing immediately. "Already? Is that a good sign? I did not think that he would come out of sleep for a while yet. Maybe we should call for a healer."

"I will find one," Alondir said, rising. "Do you want to come, or-

"No. I will stay."

The veteran warrior hesitated for a passing moment as if he was going to dispute this, but then he nodded and went quickly through the door, leaving the Prince alone with Thalion. Legolas took the now empty seat and leaned forwards, resting his chin on clasped hands. He watched silently as the man stirred, not even noticing that his breath was held in anticipation. And fear also. Yes. He was afraid, and wished suddenly that he had gone with Alondir.

'_Be brave, be brave,' _he told himself desperately. _'You survived Seregeth, so Thalion is nothing.'_

Everything was still and silent in the healing rooms for a moment that seemed to last a whole lifetime. Even Mellon was quiet, just sitting placidly at his master's feet as the Elfling waited. And waited. And waited for the inevitable to happen, for the mortal to come back to the conscious world. Then it happened. Thalion's dark lashes fluttered against his skin a few times, before his eyes were forced open.

No words were spoken. He blinked to adjust his vision to the sudden light, and it was close to a minute until his gaze fell upon Legolas. Even when he realised who he was looking on, silence continued to reign. Man and Elf just stared at each other. There was nothing which could be said, no sentiments which could possibly be uttered. They seemed to be under some sort of spell, rendered speechless by the enchantment of history.

The truth was that they did share a history, though the two had known each other for only a small amount of time. Both had been Seregeth's victims, both had suffered and lived through the same cruel punishments. They each knew what the other had endured from their captor, and that was something that no one else could possibly understand. In the very moment that their eyes met, Legolas' past became Thalion's, Thalion's past became Legolas'.

"He said that your life was no more."

"I know."

A silence that was almost but not quite uncomfortable fell once more, and the two took the time to try and sift through some of their many thoughts. Alondir came back with another Elf; and as he was examined by the healer, Thalion did not even notice the ministrations. Legolas was alive. Mirkwood's commander was in Rivendell, but where was the King? Had they been too late? Was the Queen no longer on Middle-earth's shores? So many questions, but so few answers. With others present, it seemed strangely inappropriate to discuss anything.

"You do have his eyes."

"Excuse me?"

Legolas tilted his head to one side, and nodded at the mortal's face. "Before you woke, I wondered if your eyes would be similar to Seregeth's. They are."

"Ah." Thalion took a cup of water from the healer and let the cool liquid slide down his dry throat a moment before replying: "And you have Thranduil's eyes."

"What does that tell you about me?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly. You would not assume that I am anything like my father in personality just because I resemble him in appearance," Legolas said quietly. "I told myself this before you woke so that I would not judge you too harshly. And, I know. I know that you are not Seregeth. I know that you had nothing to do with my captivity."

"I am unsure what to say. I want to apologise, to tell you how sorry I am for everything that…" Thalion broke off the sentence, and fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with sorrow. "It would not be enough, I deem. 'Sorry' will not change what has happened, nor improve anything. So I will not offer you any such plea."

Legolas nodded his understanding, and as he did his gaze fell upon Mellon. He smiled slightly. "You brought my dog."

"I did not know that you were his master," Thalion replied. "Before the fire I sold Seregeth's other animals in the town, but this little fellow I took rather a liking to, and… What is it? Are you well, Legolas?"

"What fire is this that you speak of?" Alondir asked, stepping forwards from where he stood by the wall to address the man. "We see the burns on your body, but we know not how they were conceived."

"Of course, forgive me," the mortal sighed. "There was a fire at the cottage. As you can see I managed to escape, but not before the flames made their mark on me. I was slipping in and out of consciousness, so I do not recall much. Though, I do remember that…"

"What?" Legolas pressed.

Thalion shook his head as if to jolt himself from reverie, and answered: "I remember that whilst I broke free, Seregeth did not. He succumbed to his lust for power, embracing death willingly. He is dead. The cottage is no more. All that remains is ash and charred wood."

"Valar…" The young Prince's eyes darkened with grief at the revelation. "It is sad that he is gone."

"Why do you say that?" Alondir asked, stunned.

"Because no matter who he was, no matter what he did to me and Thalion and all the others, Seregeth was still a living man," Legolas answered quietly. "I think that his story is a tragic one, and he should have been given the chance to change and redeem himself. Everyone deserves that, even if they are evil."

"I did give him a chance," Thalion said, his voice sharper than intended. "He did not _want_ it. Men such as him rarely do. Do not regret his passing nor mourn it, Legolas. He was made to pay for his crimes. Maybe death was some amendment."

Alondir gave a small smile when his Prince made no reply. "You are too soft hearted by far, penneth," he said gently. "And you have retained some of your naivety, for which I am glad. But your ability to forgive is something in you that I admire. Your father will be proud."

Legolas grimaced at that. "I do not think so. He would have wanted Seregeth dead anyway, so this news will please him. The news that I am saddened by my captor's death will not. He will be disappointed."

"And you will be surprised," Alondir said.

As the two Elves spoke together, Thalion felt his eyes starting to droop. He wondered vaguely if the healer had hidden a sleeping draught in his water. More than likely. But he found himself unable to care too much. Let sleep come. He would welcome it. Legolas was alive, he himself was alive; and there would be plenty of time for them to talk tomorrow.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**At the beginning of the Havens scene I mentioned that it was two days later, but if I'm honest I don't have a clue how long it would take Gwaihir to get there. I looked through all of my books and at all of my maps and at countless websites, but nothing really helped me. So, two days is just a guess. If anyone thinks or knows different, please tell me!**

**This was quite possibly one of the longest chapters in this story. Anyway. I am going on holiday tomorrow evening to Tenerife, but there is only one chapter left that I need to post. So, I'm hoping to get it up for you tomorrow before I leave. Wouldn't that be nice! But I suppose that if I don't manage that it won't be too much of a problem because I'm only away for a week, and normally there would be a week's wait in between chapters anyway. I don't know. I'll try my hardest. **

**Also, did anyone see 'Casualty' on Saturday evening? If you're in America you probably didn't. But I was in it! Yay!**

**Anyway, as I said, I will try to post the last chapter tomorrow. That way I can have a whole week to focus on my next story – of which I'm nearly half way through as it is. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, **

**Misto**

**x-x**


	21. Epilogue

**Two Days Later**

It was late at night in Rivendell, and Legolas had fallen asleep in his father's bed hours back after a long day spent waiting for news of his parents, speaking with Thalion, scanning the skies for Gwaihir, playing with the twins and Mellon, and pressing Lord Elrond to contact Lady Galadriel for tidings. He had succumbed to the call of slumber with none of his questions answered; and the burning need for them conceived dreams, _nightmares_ in the young Prince's mind.

He had seen Thranduil reaching the Queen in time to stop her departure, but instead boarding the boat and sailing to Valinor with her. He had seen the ship sinking into the vast ocean, taking his mother down, down, down into the blue depths. He saw himself, years from now, being denied entry to the Undying Lands where Laerwen waited for him. And each nightmare roused him from sleep, where he would find that his cheeks were wet with tears.

As he slept restlessly now, as the moon drifted across the inky sky, a giant bird was landing outside the Last Homely House, its great wings silent. Two Elves slipped like water from its back, and were greeted almost immediately by others – Elrond, Glorfindel, Alondir. Legolas slumbered on, unaware that any of this was happening. The trees outside his balcony turned their song to one of joy; and he stirred slightly, recognising the change, but not for what it was.

He was seeing something else in his troubled mind – himself stepping off the path of dreams to find that he was held in a pair of loving arms that he knew well. Around his neck was a crystal pendant. _Laerwen's _pendant. It had been promised to him should the Queen of Mirkwood sail to Valinor, so that meant, it had to mean that she was…

"No," Legolas whispered as his true self woke for the fourth time that night. "Nana, no…"

The realisation that he was not alone came quickly. He felt the arms wrapped tightly around his quivering body, and he slowly released his hold on the twisted bed sheets. This was too much like his dream. He lowered his eyes to his chest, fearing what he would see. The silver pools flooded with grief as they fell upon Laerwen's necklace. Thranduil must have returned – without the Queen.

But then the young Prince hesitated. His father's hold was stronger than this one, safer and more protective. This was gentle, tender, full of a love that could come only from a mother. Hardly daring even to hope, Legolas glanced at the locks of hair hanging over his shoulder, mingling with his own. They were silver. Thranduil had blond, Laerwen had… And that _smell_. Thranduil's scent was of the forest, of leaves and pine. But Laerwen wore fragranced water which reminded her son of roses and fresh rainwater.

"Oh no," the child breathed. "No, it is another dream."

A gentle laugh trilled through the air, and loving hands caressed Legolas' hair. "My little leaf, why do you deny what you know to be true? Turn around. Look at me."

The Prince slowly obeyed. As his eyes fell upon one whom he had feared he would never again see, they filled with tears; and he shook his head, unable to find the words for the moment. It was Laerwen. It was his mother's gentle hold that he had rested in, and… She was back. She had returned from the Grey Havens. She would not be sailing. Too many thoughts whirled through Legolas' mind, he could not understand any of them.

"Nana…"

"It is I," the Queen whispered, leaning forwards to tenderly kiss her son's forehead. "I have come back to you. Do not fear that this is anything but real."

"I didn't think that Ada would reach you in time," Legolas murmured, silent tears coursing down his cheeks. "And when I woke, the necklace… I saw it, and I knew that… I _thought_ that you had gone, and… Nana, you are here."

As the Elfling dissolved into sobs, Laerwen gathered him into her arms and pulled the small body to her breast. Her own eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Of course I am here. And I swear to you, never again will I leave you alone. Never. Do you understand that?"

"It wasn't your fault. You thought that I was dead, that you would not see me again," Legolas breathed. "I am so sorry."

"Hush," the Elven lady soothed. "Hush, my child."

The door opened without a sound, admitting a sliver of light from the lamps outside into the darkened room. Thranduil came in and leaned against the lintel, content for the moment to just watch his wife and son in silence. It was a tableau that only a few days ago he had doubted would ever exist again except in his mind. But this was real, and that knowledge made his eyes sting with tears.

"Meleth-nin," Laerwen said softly. "Come here."

Legolas looked up sharply as his father approached the bed. "Ada. You did it," he whispered. "You brought her back."

"No, you did," Thranduil amended. "You saved her, ion-nin. You saved _us_."

The child was not going to argue. He felt his tears being brushed away, and he nestled as close to his mother as he could, a smile gracing his features as he realised that he now had all that he had wanted whilst a prisoner of Seregeth's: his parents. It was over. He had been free for over two weeks, but now that his family was whole again, the trauma had truly ended.

Laerwen leaned back against the pillows and Thranduil lay beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling both her and his son close. His eyes drifted from the Elven lady to the child, and back again. He had to constantly reassure himself that they were really there, that they were safe, that they were together. He knew that for this first night at least, no sleep would come to him. He would stay awake through the hours, watching over his family.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning dawned brightly, and Thalion limped onto the outside balcony without the aid of any healers. It was the first short journey he had made on his own since arriving in Rivendell a few days back, and although he knew that the Elves caring for him would usher him straight back to bed if they were aware of what they would look on as risk taking, he was willing to take the chance. He was not jeopardising his health, and the need to be outside and underneath the rays of the sun was strong indeed.

Until the blissful effects of Elvish medicine wore off, his injuries did not pain him; and he had been comforted by Elrond declaring that he would make a full recuperation in next to no time. He knew that physically he would heal. Where his emotional wounds were concerned he had always doubted that such a thing as recovery was possible, but now that he was free from any hold that Seregeth had had on him before, he was sure that his fortunes could and would turn around.

Although, he did not know where life would lead him. He had a cottage back in the town, but he could not return there now. Of course he would keep his word and visit at times to ensure that Amarth and Surwen were doing their jobs as parents, but the place could never again be a home to him. Too much had happened, too many devastating secrets had been revealed for him to return as if nothing was changed. But that determination still did not offer a solution to his predicament: _Where would he go? What would he do?_

"I don't suppose the healers know you are out of your bed, do they?"

Thalion turned around sharply, and immediately wished he hadn't. The movement dizzied him, conceiving flashing lights before his eyes. "Valar, it is _you_! When did you get back? And why have I not been told?"

"What a charming thing you are," Thranduil said mildly. "We have not laid eyes upon each other for close to two weeks, and that is how you greet me."

"Well, if you insist upon creeping up on a weakened man with less noise than a shadow, what do you expect? And less of the 'thing', please. I find it to be a most offending term," Thalion retorted.

"We have both been insulted, so now we are equal," the Elf concluded. "I guessed correctly, though. The healers do not know that you are out of bed, so more than likely they would prefer you to be _in_ it. Will you please go back inside? I fear that standing out here will bring one of those strange human illnesses to you, and you will keep Lord Elrond's household awake for nights on end with coughing and sniffing. I should warn you that my wife does not like being kept from sleep, and will be most upset if-

"Your wife?" Thalion cut in sharply. "The Queen is here?"

"I did not think that you would ever ask! Yes, she is in Imladris," Thranduil replied, his eyes sparkling with infectious joy. "We all feared for a time that we would not have the power to stop her departure, but I brought her back from the Grey Havens last night."

"That is truly a wonderful piece of news, and I am happy indeed for you and your family," Thalion said, grasping the immortal's shoulder. "Legolas confessed to me during your absence how he feared the outcome, and he told me of the nightmares he had in the dark hours in which you did not return with the Queen. I know that you yourself never expected to have your wife and son back with you after such an ordeal."

Thranduil sobered immediately, and cast his gaze to the floor. "No. I did not. Not so many days ago I expected to be meeting either Legolas in the Halls of Mandos or Laerwen in Valinor. My survival seemed an impossible thing when the two I love most of all were not with me. But we are now together again, and that is all that matters."

"I am pleased to see you well," Thalion continued softly. "I know we had our differences to begin with, but once we put them aside I grew to respect and admire you, and I saw that there was more to your character than I first of all thought. Whilst Legolas had his first experience with men, I had my first experience with Elves. You and your people have made quite an impression."

"You are not so awful yourself," Thranduil replied, his voice careless. Then he paused, and looked seriously at the man. "My son told me what happened to Seregeth. I want to thank you. Had he lived, my family would be chasing demons until the day of his death. As would you, I deem."

"Aye. But I did not take his life. He killed himself," Thalion said bitterly.

Thranduil shook his head. "It matters not how he died. The point is that he is gone forever, and it is because you were strong enough to face your fears and your past that we are all free. I am grateful to you, as is my wife."

A fond smile appeared on the mortal's face at that. "I should very much like to see her again. The Queen is a lovely lady, and-

A small cry suddenly sounded from the healing room, and the two stood on the balcony rushed back inside – or rather Thranduil rushed, Thalion limped. At the doorway was a young apprentice healer, and they caught only a brief glimpse of her retreating back as she spun on her heel and went like lightning from the room. Elf and man looked at each other; the former accusingly, the latter in bewilderment.

"I told you."

Thalion raised his hands in defence. "What?"

"You should not have left your bed," Thranduil admonished. "Now she thinks that you have disappeared whilst under her care; and when Elrond discovers that you have been up and about with no aid he will gift you with one of his hour long lectures."

As he made his way back to the bed, the young man gave a slight smile. "Actually, I do not think my vanishing was the cause of her alarm. Cast your eyes towards the bookcase, and you will see."

"Why? What is…?" As Thranduil's gaze fell upon the cause of the healer's cry, he froze, and his face paled ever so slightly. "It is…a spider."

"Yes," Thalion agreed. "What a lovely little creature he is too."

"Well, if you like such animals then I suppose he is, but I am much fonder of horses myself," the immortal replied. "Now, if you will excuse me I have some…things which urgently demand my attention, so I am going to take my leave now. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

Thranduil turned back with a long suffering sigh, and spread his hands in frustration. "What? What do you want?"

"I am unsure how hygienic spiders are," Thalion said thoughtfully. "But I do not think that Lord Elrond would want them in his healing rooms lest they infect his patients. I cannot remove it for I am not permitted to leave the bed. My healer has vanished. You are the only one left, so would you be kind enough to deposit it elsewhere?"

"No, I think not," Thranduil replied. "Forgive me, but I really must go."

"Are you afraid of it?"

The Elf caught himself before turning, and levelled the man with a suspicious gaze. "Has Legolas been speaking of me at all?"

"No," Thalion said, innocence colouring his voice. "Please, do this one thing for me. I wish to make a swift recovery, and if it is delayed by the presence of a spider I will be most aggrieved. And you will feel ever so guilty if-

"Very well, I will get rid of it!" Thranduil snapped. "Just never ask me to do anything for you again, insufferable human."

The mortal chuckled under his breath at that, and his gaze fell upon two dark heads in the tree outside the balcony. Elladan and Elrohir. He had been told enough stories of their tricks, and so it had come as little surprise to him that morning when he was approached by them and asked to participate in one. He liked the two young Elves a great deal, and had readily agreed.

"I am grateful to you for doing this, I…" Thalion's eyes widened as they fell back on Thranduil. "What are you doing?"

The Elf had pulled one of his twin knives from his belt, and gave a slight shrug as he sighted it on the spider's thin body. "I am removing the creature from your presence, which is what you asked me to do."

"I asked you to put it elsewhere, not kill it!"

Thranduil lowered his weapon, and glared at the man with cold eyes. "You are indeed difficult to please. I agreed to do a favour for you even when I am needed elsewhere, and now my method of carrying out the aforementioned favour is not to your liking and you have asked me to stop. Well, I will. You can feel free to dispose of the…thing yourself."

"I will," Thalion retorted. "I assure you that the _spider _will be gently put outside instead of massacred by the tip of your knife."

"What is the meaning of all this noise?"

The Mirkwood ruler turned towards the door, and released a deep sigh as his eyes fell upon Elrond and Glorfindel. "Your patient is most trying, my friend. Might I suggest that you give him a greater dosage of sleeping draught next time?"

"He is no longer receiving such medicine," the Peredhil replied evenly. "Thranduil, why do you have a knife in your hand? I do not allow weapons in my healing rooms – as well you know."

"My Lord, he was preparing to commit murder of a most heinous kind," Thalion explained. "Might _I _suggest that you call your guards and have him locked away?"

"There is no prison in Imladris," Elrond answered. "Now, would either of you care to explain yourselves to me?"

Thranduil glanced down at the spider, and shuddered as it scuttled across the room. "Look at that creature. Do you want it around your patients? I offered to remove it-

"You did not offer," Thalion scoffed.

"I _offered _to remove it, but my kindness is not good enough for this man," the Elf continued. "My method of removing it may have been slightly…violent, but that is quite irrelevant, and-

"You were going to throw your knife at it."

"Thranduil!" Glorfindel gasped. "No, surely not. I did not know that such cruelty existed in you."

"Who is cruel?"

The Mirkwood Elf closed his eyes as his wife and son appeared in the doorway with Alondir. "Wonderful," he murmured. "Is the whole of Imladris journeying here to witness this scene?"

"Who is cruel?" Legolas repeated.

"I am, apparently," Thranduil sighed. "I was going to kill the spider."

"Meleth, why would you do something like that?" Laerwen asked disapprovingly, though a small smile was upon her lips. "What has it done to you that is so awful it must have its life taken?"

"I fear that I must retract my earlier words," Thalion said from the bed. "I see now that you are indeed a heartless Elf."

"The spider would not stand a chance against your knife," Elrond agreed. "How very callous of you."

Thranduil stared at the small group in shock, and shook his head slowly. "I did not want to be persecuted so. I have done nothing wrong, and yet you treat me like a criminal. If I had known that such a furore would be caused I would not even have touched my knife. Since you are all so upset, the spider can live. It can make its permanent home here for all I care, and… Why are you laughing?"

"We laugh at you," Laerwen said gently.

"Me? Why-

"Is it not obvious?" the Queen continued. "Meleth-nin, the twins put the spider in here because they knew you were coming to see Thalion, and they also know that you are…that you do not…"

"That he is afraid of spiders," Glorfindel offered helpfully.

Thranduil flushed at that, and looked towards his son. "Legolas, did you tell Elladan and Elrohir? Ion-nin, you promised…"

"I'm sorry," the Prince muttered.

"And now everyone knows?"

"It is quite amusing," Elrond said mildly. "Come, you must agree with me. The great King of Mirkwood, fearing a mere insect? Do you not see the humorous side?"

"Oh, of course. It is so funny I think that perhaps my sides will split from laughter," Thranduil replied. "It is the funniest thing I have heard in all my life, and I am so happy that your hellion sons concoct such jokes, because this has truly brightened up my day. Send them my thanks, will you?"

The Peredhil nodded calmly as everyone else stifled laughter. "I will."

Legolas watched the scuttling spider for a moment, before nudging Alondir with his foot. As the commander leaned down to him, he whispered: "Can you get rid of it? The joke is over now, and it is unfair."

Laerwen smiled at her son's compassion. "You speak the truth, little one. Thranduil, I apologise for laughing at your expense. It was wrong of us to use your fear against you for our own humour."

"Even though it is but a fear of spiders," Glorfindel added quietly. He grinned as the Mirkwood ruler glared at him. "Sorry. I will go now, before you throw something at me."

The seneschal left with Alondir and the cause of all the furore, and Legolas sighed as he went forwards and took his father's hands in his own. "This was my fault, Ada. I did not mean to tell the twins, and I did try to take back what I said. I am sorry. I feel as though I have let you down, after all you did to help me conquer my fear of storms."

"It matters not," Thranduil replied, swinging the little boy into his arms, and holding him tightly. "It gave everyone a chance to laugh, so I suppose that maybe I can find it within me to forgive the twins. But I may have to tape your mouth up to stop you from spilling any more secrets, impling."

"Ada," Legolas giggled. "Don't do that."

"Yes, that _would _be cruel of you," Laerwen agreed.

The Elven-king rolled his eyes as he took a seat at Thalion's bedside. "I must be careful from now on, lest everything that I do is looked upon as 'cruel'. Ion-nin, I will not tape your mouth shut. This time. But prepare yourself to be tickled mercilessly later."

Legolas winced, though a smile was upon his face as he rested his head against his father's shoulder. If he had made such an error in judgement whilst living with Seregeth, the man would have beaten him, spilt his blood, made him sob with pain and fear and… The Elfling shuddered as memories came flooding back, recollections of himself lying on the floor at his captor's mercy, helpless to protect himself. Thranduil seemed to sense the change in his son, for he suddenly tightened his hold on the child.

"All is well, little one," he whispered. "You are safe here."

"I am sorry," Legolas said quietly. "About the spider."

Thalion watched the tender moment in silence, before letting his gaze travel to Laerwen. "My Lady, your return gladdens my heart. The reunion of your family is a perfect ending to a story which could have been so different."

The Queen looked towards her husband and son, and let out a silent exhale of breath. "I see them together, and I cannot imagine what my life would be without them. Even in Valinor, happiness would not be granted to me." She paused, and glanced back at the mortal. "You spoke the truth. The ending could have been different, very different indeed."

"What will you do now?" Thalion asked softly. "Will you stay here a while, or return to Mirkwood before long?"

"We must think of Legolas, and I deem that he would prefer to spend some more time in Imladris before making the return journey home, though we cannot be too long away from our people," Laerwen replied. "We will decide in a few days. You, however, will take longer in choosing the course of your life. Is that not so?"

"Yes. I feel…lost, I suppose," the man admitted, his voice low. "I do not know what to do now, where to go. I have no home, no friends. I have to make some sort of living for myself, but I know not how to do so. Where do I go from here?"

"Mirkwood and Imladris will always gladly receive you," Thranduil interjected. "And, you will be known in my realm as a friend of the House of Oropher. Yet I wonder why you are so desperate to know where your road leads. All your life you have walked a path set out by other people – for fifteen years you were imprisoned in that cottage because of Seregeth, and for another five after that you lived in the town to be near your sister. Maybe it is time to do something for yourself."

"But what?"

"Anything. Learn healing whilst you are staying here. Become a carpenter, a craftsman, a hunter," the Elf replied. "Or, make no plans at all. Leave Elrond's house when you feel ready, just let your feet carry you across Arda; and eventually they will take you to where you are destined to be."

Thalion allowed a small smile to pull his lips upwards. "You make it sound so easy."

"It does not have to be difficult," Laerwen said gently.

"I think that you should do it," Legolas contributed. "I would, if I was given the chance. Just imagine how much freedom you will have. You will be like a bird, able to do anything, go anywhere. Is that not something you have wanted? To be free?"

""I suppose so, but…" Thalion thought for a moment, before nodding his dark head once in determination. "No. All of you speak the truth, and I would be unwise to disregard the advice of three Elves. I will do this. I will walk until I find the place that is right for me, although, I wonder if it will be a lonely road."

Mirkwood's Queen looked up as a small dog bounded into the room, and a smile graced her fair features. "I do not think that you will feel too lonesome with this little creature. He is sure to keep you company on your travels."

"Nana," Legolas began hesitantly. "Ada… That is Mellon. He does not belong to Thalion."

"No, then whose is he?" Laerwen asked. She caught the sudden darkness in her husband's eyes, and her smooth brow furrowed. "Meleth?"

"Seregeth gave him that dog," Thranduil replied quietly, his voice brimming with hate. "Is that not so, ion-nin?"

"Yes, but it does not mean anything," the Prince answered. "He is quite friendly, and will even sleep on my bed at night. He eats from my hand, but Lord Elrond frowns upon that. He says that it is unhygienic. He also licks my face – Mellon that is, and…"

As the Elven-king listened with only half an ear to the child's happy talk, he released a silent exhale of breath. Upon hearing that the dog had come from Seregeth, his instinct had been to tell Legolas that he could not keep it, that it was an attachment to his captor and thus should be broken. But then he had looked upon Thalion, and realised that the man also was a tie to everything that had happened at the cottage, and that was not something that he wanted to sever. Even his son himself was a tie.

"Ada!"

Thranduil blinked, and looked up sharply. "I am sorry. What did you say, penneth?"

"May I keep him?" Legolas repeated. "Please."

Laerwen laughed as the dog licked her face with a long pink tongue. "He is friendly, if not overly so. But he is beautiful. Look at his eyes, meleth-nin."

"And he only has four legs," Thalion added. "Not eight."

"I knew that someone would mention that, and of course it had to be you," Thranduil sighed. "Very well, he can stay. But Legolas, he is your responsibility. Do you understand that?"

"Of course. I promise to look after him."

The King glanced sideways at his son and nodded slowly, remembering that the child had said exactly that of a book five weeks ago. "In that case," he replied, "I have nothing to worry about. I know that you will keep your word."

"Thank you." Legolas' voice was coloured with joy, and an infectious smile was on his face as he ran across the room to the door. "I am going to find Alondir and tell him. He did not think that you would let Mellon live with us."

Even before he had finished speaking the Elfling had disappeared from the room. Thalion let out a soft peal of laughter at the boy's youthful enthusiasm, though he had to lie back against his soft pillows to ease the dull ache that spread through his body at the movement. The sharp eyes of the two Elves did not miss his poorly concealed wince, and they stood up together.

"We will leave you," Laerwen said gently. "You are still recovering, and must keep up your strength."

"Do you need more medicine?" Thranduil asked. "I will find you a healer."

As the Sinda Elf left the room, Thalion looked towards the Queen and gave a slight smile. "You are a lucky lady. Take care of them both. Especially Legolas. He is a precious child, and deserves to have the very best. But then, I do not need to tell you that. You already know."

"I do." Laerwen was silent for a moment, but then she reached down and took the mortal's hands in her own. Her expression was sad as she said: "Goodbye. I do not think that we will see each other again, for I see in your eyes that you mean not to return to either Mirkwood or Imladris once you have left here."

Thalion shook his head slowly. "No. In eighty years I will have passed from this world. To my race that is a long time, but to yours it is nothing. Legolas will still be young, and I would not have him introduced to death at such an age. He has witnessed it already, but not in anyone that he cares for. I would see him protected from such finality. For that reason I will stay away from the friends that I have made over the last month. I hope that you can understand that."

Laerwen held the man's ocean coloured eyes with her own violet ones, and nodded slowly. She said nothing else, instead gracing him with a final smile before turning and walking silently onto the balcony. She stood there with her hands resting on the stone balustrade, watching as her young son talked animatedly with Commander Alondir and the twins in the gardens below. Mellon ran around the Elves in circles, barking happily, his high pitched voice disturbing resting birds that took to the azure sky with trills of indignation.

"He has received medicine."

The Queen smiled as her husband came onto the balcony and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Good. He seems to be recovering well."

"Hmm."

"Nonetheless, he will not to return to Mirkwood."

Thranduil was silent a moment, but then he nodded slowly in acceptance of the fact. "I think we knew that all along. He and Legolas have become friends in the short time they have known each other, they have a bond made strong by all that they experienced at Seregeth's hands. But Thalion's death is inevitable. Our son's is not. He wants to spare him the loss, I deem."

"He said almost exactly that," Laerwen replied quietly. "And when he leaves Imladris, he will go with my blessing."

"He deserves it." Thranduil paused, and looked down at his only child in the gardens. The small boy was laughing, his silver eyes bright with joy. "Do we tell Legolas? If we keep quiet, he will ask questions."

"And we will answer them – when they come," Laerwen said. "Let us not spoil his happiness after so long spent in darkness."

Silence fell on the balcony, a silence that was broken only by child's laughter, a dog barking, the whisper of trees as gentle wind whistled through the valley of Imladris. Mirkwood's Queen raised her hand and tenderly caressed the soft hair of her husband which trailed over her own shoulder like liquid gold. She sensed him smile at the touch, and a similar expression graced her face as she gazed at the gardens beneath them, as her eyes fell upon the pendant that Legolas wore.

During the past month the crystals had been dull, their deep pools lacking any soul. But now the jewels twinkled and danced in the bright rays streaming down from the morning sun, their new found beauty symbolic, a representation of the reunion of the royal family, and the new chapter of the life that was just about to open for the three Elves who had suffered so much in so short a time.

Their days had been dark, filled with a blackness that none of them had ever known before, nor wished to know again. All they had felt was anger, grief, despair, a pain so acute that it nearly conceived death. But it was all finished now, the terrible sentiments pushed away and replaced by ones that shone out like beacons in comparison – relief, happiness, joy, love.

Laerwen felt the sting of tears, but they were not born out of sadness. Down below, as if sensing the sudden rush of emotion, Legolas turned away from his friends and looked up to the balcony. He gazed at his parents, and the three felt the bond that they all shared as a family tighten and grow in that one moment which seemed to last forever. The young Prince held the violet eyes of his mother, the silver eyes of his father. And he smiled.

**The End**

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**So, where do I start? I have quite a lot to say. Firstly, it's the end of this story. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've had wonderful feedback and reviews for this, so I want to thank each and every one of you for leaving me your comments – especially the readers who have been with me for a while now, and are constant in their loyalty. I love you all to bits!**

**I also have to explain why this final chapter has taken so long to be posted for those who haven't read my reasons on my bio page. I was cleaning out my room one afternoon because it looked awful, and I threw away all that I had done on the epilogue without realising until the next day. But by then it was too late because the bin men had already been and gone. So, I had to write the whole thing again. **

**Finally, I'll just say a little bit about upcoming stories. I have not finished writing yet, not by a long shot! I do have many ideas still left in my head – most of them the same as when I was writing my last story. One of them I am already putting into writing, and I'm about six chapters into it. So, I should be able to start posting probably by April, but I will try my hardest to do so sooner. When I have more details about posting dates and the like, I'll update my bio page with them to let you all know. **

**Again, thank you all for being such great readers!**

**Misto**

**x-x**


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